


Why don't we go to Venus?

by watermelonriddles



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: (Seriously it's all there in some way), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beth makes appearances in more ways than one, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Denial of Feelings, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Feelings, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Guns, Multi, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26519266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watermelonriddles/pseuds/watermelonriddles
Summary: Rio killed her and that was supposed to be the end of it but Beth doesn’t seem to be quite done with him yet.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rhea, Beth Boland/Rio, Mick/Rio (Good Girls), Rhea/Rio (Good Girls)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 240





	1. What happens to us now?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is (and I can't stress this enough) very, _very_ loosely inspired by The Expanse, particularly 2x05. You don't have to have seen that to read this and nothing about this fic should spoil that show or anything if you decide you want to watch it (especially when I've gone for supernatural elements, not aliens, but I mean, either way, you should definitely check The Expanse out because it's really good). 
> 
> The fic and chapter titles are quotes/lines of dialogue from 2x05 of The Expanse :)

Rio had thought for a long time about the moment he would crash back into Elizabeth’s life and, more specifically, how he would take it from her. The actual moment was a lot slower than Rio expected or at least, it  _ felt _ a lot slower. It didn’t help that once he pulled the trigger it was just a matter of waiting because for some fucking reason or other, he couldn’t leave. It wasn’t that Mick wasn’t capable of handling it because he was —  _ always is  _ — but it was  _ her  _ and that made it different, no matter what she did, no matter how many slugs she put in him.

It was after she was gone, after she was _ dead, _ that he finally left. Even though it felt like he needed to be there while she died, he couldn’t be there for what came after. It didn’t matter that things were going to be different to their usual clean up, it still didn’t feel right to see any of it. Maybe it was the guilt that already swelled up inside of him or the regret that was starting to rear its head. Maybe it was that he couldn’t stand seeing her like that knowing who they used to be or who they could’ve been. Either way, once he knew it was over and there was no turning back, he left Mick to it.

Now, Rio’s driving straight back to his apartment, thankful that he seems to be avoiding every red light and that traffic is light so he can weave in and out to avoid getting stuck behind any slow drivers without any incident. It helps the tightening in his chest to ease a little knowing that soon he will be back at his place. Somewhere that is yet to feel completely recognisable and like home but still _ his  _ space. It’ll be better than the vastness of being outside and will, hopefully, be enough to provide him with a sense of comfort.

Once he gets there and is inside the front door, he begins stripping off his clothes, heading right over to the bathroom so he can climb into the shower. The second the spray hits his face and neck and the water begins running over his body, that tightness eases even more as the physical reminders of the night are washed away. The warmth feels good and helps to clear his mind enough to think about something other than what happened. It’s not that he expected to feel nothing, it’s more that he didn’t expect to feel so much.

The problem is, once he gets out of the shower, it all comes flooding back. Every single detail, louder and clearer than he’s prepared for. Shit, if he thought it was gonna feel like this then maybe he wouldn’t have done it, maybe he would’ve figured out another way to get back at her. Not that it matters because he can’t change anything and this is happening  _ now _ .

So, Rio goes to the one place he knows will stop it or at least slow it down. It’s not like he hasn’t felt kickback from killing someone before. It’s always a necessary act and most of the time he barely gives it a second thought. Still, even when he’s had exceptions, it’s never been quite like this. She may not be the first or the last but she’s certainly hitting harder than any of the other outliers. It’s fucking with him in a way he’s not prepped for. He’s not immune, killing someone is never easy, he usually goes out for a drink with his guys or he locks himself in his apartment and hell, he’s even fucked the feelings away before, but they’ve rarely crawled their way under his skin like they are now. They almost never make it hard to breathe or like his head is gonna explode from the vivid memories.

He knocks twice when he gets there and starts pacing outside the door until it opens up and Rhea just stares at him. She’s dressed for bed but he can tell she hasn’t slept yet. She steps closer and lets the door swing against her back, blocking his view of the inside of the house.

“I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”

Rio nods because, yeah, he wasn’t expecting to be here either. It’s not what he does but none of tonight is normal. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t think-”

_ “Please.” _

“He’s asleep.”

“I know.”

Silence passes between them. He doesn’t try to push it. The chances of her letting him inside were slim at best but he needs this and sure, it makes him feel shitty to come here after what he’s done, especially when he would normally distance himself for a day or two, but it’s all so much. He just pushes his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and watches her carefully, his face as open and honest as he can make it.

It must work because Rhea finally backs into the house and keeps the door open for him to step inside as well. “Please try not to wake him up.”

“I won’t,” he says, nodding slightly as he moves past her, tugging his hood down as he goes.

He’s about to head further into the house when Rhea speaks, calling his name, and he turns back to look at her. She wraps her arms around her middle, bottom lip pulled in between her teeth and he knows she wants to ask about what happened tonight. It’s not what they do. A degree of separation stops them from spiralling, helps them to co-parent, and now she wants him to break that.

She’s got this look in her eyes like she’s begging to know what’s happened. He has to give her  _ something  _ he realises. Really, they’ve been through so much over the years and she’s known about what he does for so long that he knows this won’t be their final straw. Maybe that’s why he gives the slightest nod, keeping his expression neutral, even as she drops her head in response and motions for him to keep going. He tries not to think about that too much as he walks through the house until he reaches Marcus’ bedroom.

Outside the door, he pauses. It’s cracked open and he can see the blue glow from the nightlight. There’s a brief moment where he thinks about turning around but the memories of tonight are still pushing at the edges of his mind and that tightness is still there so he pushes the door open and slips inside.

Despite the glow inside the room, it takes a second for his eyes to adjust but once they do, he sees the small lump that’s Marcus. He’s on his front, his arm threatening to slip off the edge of the bed. Rio stands there, watching him for a moment before he quietly steps across the room and around to the other side of the bed where he kicks off his shoes and lays down. As gently as possible, he reaches over and pulls Marcus’ arm back from the edge.

He stills until he’s sure his boy is still asleep then he edges in as close as he dares. Close enough that he can breathe in that scent that’s so deeply Marcus, so deeply  _ his son.  _ It grounds Rio in the way he had hoped and he just lays there, listening, breathing, trying not to think about the fact that Elizabeth can’t do either anymore.

Rio’s not entirely sure how long he stays in Marcus’ room but when he eventually tugs on his shoes and leaves, it feels like those pressing thoughts and memories are at bay. At least for now anyway and that’s enough for him.

He finds Rhea sitting at the small dining table. She gently kicks out the chair that’s beside hers and he doesn’t dare question it as he goes and sits with her. She’s got a bottle of red wine and she pours out a little bit into two glasses. It’s not exactly his poison but he doesn’t refuse it when she slides the glass over to him. He’s barely picked his up when she downs hers in almost one go and pours herself some more, filling it nearly to the top this time.

“I shouldn’t care,” she says.

“It would be weird if you didn’t.”

Rhea blinks at him. “She _ lied  _ to me. She was supposed to be my friend but she knew why you weren’t with us and she did it all while believing you would never be able to come back. She listened to me tell her time and time again that Marcus would beg to speak to you and that he would crawl into bed with me and that he would  _ cry.” _

“Yeah, mama, I get it.” He gulps down his own drink, ignoring the horrible taste as he tries not to think too long or hard about how Marcus had taken his absence. “But you ain’t ever been in this deep with it, not since we were kids and not like this, and you said it yourself, you thought she was your friend. It’s different.”

She takes a sip of her wine. “I hate that I care.”

“I know.”

“Why did you come here?” She fills his glass up and when he doesn’t answer, she watches him, slowly settling the bottle back down. “Because it’s different for you too.”

“No.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” Rhea points out which isn’t entirely true. It’s mostly with her and his ma, otherwise, if you ask him, he’s pretty fucking good at lying. “I’ve known you too long.”

And yeah, he supposes she has always been good at reading him but it hits differently this time. Sure, Mick and others have had some inclination of how things with Elizabeth were different to the norm but the thought of Rhea finding out feels worse. He takes a generous mouthful of wine.

“It’s just gonna take me a minute to readjust.”

“I know you want to keep the details vague of what happened,” she starts. “But what was she to you? Can you tell me that at least?”

Rio watches her carefully. See, after he heard all about Rhea’s new friend from the park, he’d told her he’d been hurt badly enough to be holed up this entire time and just how in the know her new friend had been about the whole thing. He had really given her much more than that though. He’d deliberately spared the details about being shot three times and the specific intimacy that had thrown him so off course that he made some pretty fucked decisions.

He swirls the wine and watches it move around the glass. “She worked for me.”

“You told me that.”

He takes a sip. “A’ight, so she worked  _ with  _ me.”

“Like partners?”

He takes another sip. “Kind of.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re so…” She motions to him and then to space around them, clearly exasperated. “There’s more, there’s-” She draws back a little. “Oh, god, you slept with her. I… How many times?”

He knows this ain’t about jealousy but more about the fact that she’s realised he crossed a pretty significant line and he’s way too tired to deal with whatever comes from her hitting that realisation because he knows it’s gonna be different with her. He finishes what’s left in his glass. 

“It has nothing to do with this.”

“Sure it does,” she says in a way that leaves no room for debate. “It’s why this is so different for you, right?”

“It ain’t different for me.”

“So, you broke every rule and traipsed over here because it’s not different? That’s why you risked waking up our son? That’s why you’re drinking some wine I know you don’t like instead of being holed up in your apartment or being with your boys?”

“No. It’s not different because I know I had to. She got away with too much shit way too often and this time was the final straw.”

“And you’re obviously the one that let her get away with it all,” Rhea points out. “I don’t care who you work for or with or whatever, I know enough to know you set boundaries and you have the power to do something. If she was getting away with it all it’s because  _ you  _ let her. This mess didn’t happen out of nowhere. I know you won’t tell me exactly what happened, just that she hurt you, but I can’t believe there wasn’t some reason-”

“So, I deserved it?”

“That’s not-” She takes a breath. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that there was something going on with you two and it clearly went beyond working together because you let her get away with more than you’d let other people you’re in business with. This is way more than just her pushing boundaries and finally overstepping it.”

“I ain’t talking about it.” He’s not even sure he could.

“It’s going to tear you apart. You can’t treat this like she’s some random person or some rival or one of your own who tried to turn on you. Maybe it was just sex but the fact that you’re here right now tells me it wasn’t. This isn’t the same thing. For  _ either  _ of us.”

He stares at her. She’ll do her best not to cry while he’s there but he can see she’s close. It should make him feel better about what he’s done tonight, knowing that Elizabeth fucked with all of them and part of the pain tonight is down to that and she deserves what she got but he  _ knows  _ Rhea. He knows that part of the reason for those tears and her frown and the bottle of wine is because she’s  _ sad  _ and fuck, she’s grieving or starting to at least. It starts to bring about that tightness in his chest again.

“So how much does this change?” he asks, briefly looking back over his shoulder in the general direction of Marcus’ room.

“You know the only way I’d stop you from seeing him is if he got hurt or could get hurt.” She pauses. “He won’t, right?”

“Never.”

They both know it’s a slippery slope of a promise but she’ll turn a blind eye to it and they both know he’ll do more than try so she nods. “Would I have been able to change your mind about what went down tonight?”

He shakes his head as he gets up from the table. “Been thinking about it for too long. Delaying it would’ve just made it worse when the time came.”

“You can’t bury your head in the sand with this one,” she tells him. “It’s going to take me a minute to not be dragged down by this and I didn’t…”

_ Pull the trigger. _

Rio knows that’s what she means. He hates himself for being so predictable and for showing up here and for telling Rhea more than he normally would. He doesn’t tell her things like this because she shouldn’t be involved. He chose to go down these paths in his life and she chose to go in a completely different direction and what they’ve had has worked for them and when it hasn’t, they’ve adjusted. He knows this’ll change things, even if only for a little bit, and it just… It breaks him a little more.

“Death and prison aren’t the only ways that Marcus can lose you.”

“It’s gonna be fine.”

Another thing he can’t really promise her but she lets it go nonetheless. Maybe tomorrow she’ll feel differently. Maybe she’ll shut him out. She won’t call the cops though, he knows that. Their lives, their  _ history…  _ She might not be involved in what he does but she’s known this side of him for a long time, hell, she’s known him for a long time  _ full stop _ and she wouldn’t do that to him. He knows it’ll eat her up a little to think that maybe she could have done something to stop what happened tonight but Rio hopes she hears him because he meant it when he said she couldn’t have stopped him.

He’s let Rhea down enough times over the years and so long as it doesn’t stop him from seeing his kid, he’ll gladly take all of the weight from tonight if it means she doesn’t have to walk around with any guilt on her shoulders. His hand touches hers, his fingers running along the back of it as he pulls away. She doesn’t look up at him. Instead, she picks up her glass and he watches as she finishes her wine. He knows on a usual night she wouldn’t drink any more than she already has, not with Marcus asleep in the house, but this ain’t a usual night. He’d stay but he knows it’ll probably just make things worse so he moves to stand behind her and settles his hands on her shoulders.

“Get some sleep, mama.”

She doesn’t say anything but she does reach up, her fingers gently brushing his right hand and he leans down to kiss the top of her head. Her fingers press into his and then her hand falls away. He squeezes her shoulders before he pulls away entirely, heading straight for the front door and not looking back. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stomach it if he sees her reaching for the bottle again.

Once he’s outside, Rio stands on her front step for a moment and takes a breath before he moves over to his car. He doesn’t drive off right away, instead, he turns the radio on with the volume down low and puts his head back. Staying  _ is  _ an awful option but he finds it hard to just leave so he waits.

He listens to the music and watches Rhea’s house and does his best to relax. His eyes feel heavy and there’s an ache starting to creep its way into his body but he doesn’t move until he sees the ever so subtle glow from the window go out and he knows she’s finally gone to lay down. Almost as if he expects her to come outside and ask him to stay, he waits a little longer. He knows she won’t but after tonight, after his absence, he can’t drive away knowing that she’s in there and she might need him. Not that she ever does. Even when they were kids it was always him needing her but he can’t shake the feeling.

Eventually, he drives away.

When he gets to his apartment building, he’s slow to go up the stairs. The elevator works just fine, is actually much quicker than the last couple of places he’s lived, but he hopes that every step will suck enough energy out of him that he’ll collapse into a dreamless sleep.

By the time he actually makes it to his front door, he’s exhausted. He’s kicking off his shoes the second he’s inside and heads straight over to the bedroom. He doesn’t even undress, just stands at the end of the bed and collapses down onto it. The second his head hits the pillow he lets out a sigh of relief and the next moment, he’s asleep.

* * *

It’s around noon when Rio wakes up and there’s an ache radiating throughout his body. He rolls out of bed, stretching as he makes his way to the bathroom. Unlike the night before, this time when he stands under the spray, the memories of killing Elizabeth start to come about and so he hurries up and focuses on getting ready for the day. He knows he’s got to finish this completely if he’s going to stop being dragged down by it. As soon as he does that, he can focus even more on Marcus and start thinking about work and he can  _ move on. _

Once he’s dressed, Rio makes himself some coffee and puts it into a to-go cup and heads downstairs to his car. On the way, he sends a text to Mick to meet him at the bar. Part of him hopes the change of scenery will do him good and even though the place is closed at this time, there’ll be plenty for him to do to stay distracted.

Rio’s at the bar for barely an hour, mostly spending his time cleaning the place up, when Mick walks in. He nods slightly as he settles on a stool, waiting for Rio to finish reorganising the bottles he’s pulled down from one of the top shelves.

“Everything good?” Rio asks before Mick has the chance to say anything.

“Yeah, I did what you said,” Mick says. “They picked her up about an hour before you text.”

“What’d Niall say?”

“First impression was that it was a robbery gone wrong,” he explains. “Apparently they were pretty frustrated at the lack of anything so they’re hoping an autopsy will bring up something more.”

Rio swallows against the lump in this throat as the image of Elizabeth lying on a cold slab comes to mind. “He’s working her case though?”

“Yeah,” Mick says. “He knows what he’s doing and if there’s anything he can’t change, he’ll give me a heads up.”

“A’ight.” He rolls his shoulders a little. “You good to keep on this?”

Mick nods. “It’s probably gonna take a minute before he has anything to tell me though.”

“We’ve got a bit of time.”

“What about work?”

Rio rubs the back of his neck. He’d known as soon as he woke up in the hospital and then got transferred to the hotel that he was gonna miss a lot. It’s not just the money being cooked or the sudden drop in drugs that’ll put him in debt but his overall absence too. If he doesn’t want anyone asking too many questions, he’ll need to do something to stop it and it won’t be cheap. 

“If everything goes as planned, this thing with Elizabeth will be over in a week or two,” he says. “We can focus more on work then.”

Mick raises a brow. “And if someone realises you’re back?”

There’s a moment of silence before Rio sighs, slumping a little against the bar. “We could start sooner. Nothing too big though. I can’t be walking around the city like nothing happened.”

“Well, we could figure out how the hell we’re gonna get the money together.”

“I’ve got some held back that we could use,” Rio offers up. It’s a rainy day fund for if things ever went south, separate from what he’s got so he can take care of Marcus and Rhea. Problem is, even without an exact figure, he knows his debts will far outweigh the money he can part with right now. “I was thinking we’ve got people who owe us.”

“Doubt it’ll be enough though.”

“No, but it’ll be enough to give us some breathing space,” Rio says. “Gonna need you to pretend like it’s all you though.”

Mick smirks. “That mean I’m your favourite?”

At that, Rio rolls his eyes only making that smirk turn into a full-blown grin. “It means you’re the only one qualified enough to take over from me.”

But really, Rio’s gotta hand it to him. Technically it’s not a “we” situation at all. It falls on him, he knows that. He fucked up, he went missing, he bailed on his end of all these deals, it’s  _ him  _ who will owe these debts but since he first made contact, Mick has been there every step of the way, taking on this shit like it is a “we” situation. Sure, to some extent it is, it’s his job but there’s no reason he can’t just bail. Shit, Rio’s never been so thankful for the loyalty they’ve developed with one another.

“If there’s a couple of guys you can trust then bring them on board but don’t tell them anything about me.”

“Since you disappeared, a few people were wondering what we’re gonna do next,” Mick explains. “Some thought you’d come back, that the rumours were wrong, others just wanted to stick together and carry everything on.”

Rio nods and drops his head a little. He really doesn’t pay his guys enough. It’s not like there aren’t others he can trust. Mick’s just been with him the longest and well, it’ll only take one little slip for his reappearance to be known. Suddenly, Mick clears his throat, bringing Rio out of his thoughts and he knows he’s gearing up to say something.

“Just say it.”

“You got me thinking,” Mick says. “It wasn’t just her working for you and there’s her husband.”

“We’ll be good for now,” Rio assures him because they will be. He hadn’t just thought about killing Elizabeth while he was stuck in hospital or that hotel room, he’d considered the people closest to her as well. “They would’ve noticed I was gone, she probably told them about what happened. I doubt any of them would’ve stuck around Detroit if they thought I was still alive.”

“And once they figure out you are still around?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Better not leave it too long,” Mick warns. “Gonna be hard enough to deal with the three of them but they could’ve told other people and with her being dead, there’s a bigger chance something will slip.”

And Rio gets it, he does. He can still remember their fucking secret shopper scheme and the PTA mom who stole from him. Then there’s Boomer who he’s still gotta deal with now he thinks about it and those were people Elizabeth and her girls didn’t even plan on telling.

“There’s no point in worrying about it now with me keeping out of the way.”

Mick doesn’t seem so convinced but he seems to let it go. “What about Marcus?”

“Gonna see him at my place or Rhea’s. He’s probably gonna hate me for not going to watch him play soccer but  _ her  _ youngest goes.”

Mick hums. “It’s gonna be worth it not to be seen.”

He knows that. If Annie or Ruby or Dean ever saw him, they’d know instantly he was behind what happened to Elizabeth and normally he wouldn’t think they’d be stupid enough to go to the cops but this is a whole other ballpark and even if they have no proof, it’s not worth the hassle. And shit, he hadn’t expected Elizabeth to shoot him three times so who the fuck knows what’ll happen, maybe none of them will go to the cops, maybe they’ll come after him themselves. Not that he’s worried. It’ll just be an inconvenient mess to clean up that he doesn’t have the energy for.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “As soon as Niall updates us on her case, we can move things along.”

Mick watches him carefully and nods reluctantly. “Don’t worry, I got it all covered for now.”

* * *

It feels strange showing up at Rhea’s after the last time he was here but Rio perseveres anyway and knocks on the door. It helps that this time when she answers, she lets him in straight away. She looks a lot better too, giving him a small smile that lights him up a little.

“How you feeling, mama?”

“I’m just trying to push forward.”

He opens his mouth to respond when Marcus rounds the corner, stopping short at the sight of them standing by the front door before his face splits into a grin. It’s one of excitement but in his eyes, Rio can tell he’s relieved.

“Will you come outside with me?” Marcus asks, holding his soccer ball up.

“I told him he could practice out back,” Rhea explains. “Seen as he missed practice.”

Rio grins, turning his attention back to Marcus. It would be nice to see him kick a ball around again, to be able to see what he’s been learning. He steps further into the room and lifts his foot to gently nudge Marcus’ bum.

“Better go set up some goal posts then.”

Marcus doesn’t need to be told twice as he yells excitedly, taking off running towards the back door. Shaking his head, Rio turns around to see Rhea leaning against the wall, arms folded over her chest with a smile on her face.

“What?”

She shrugs a little. “He’s missed you.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed him,” Rio says, eyeing her carefully. “You’d normally rip me a new one about it.”

“Like I said, things are different this time.”

And it’s not like she  _ hadn’t. _ When he’d first come back, the second they were out of earshot from Marcus she had laid into him about disappearing before he had steered the conversation over to her new friend at the park. Still, it was tame compared to how much shit she normally gives him for not being around when Marcus needs him. 

He moves over to stand in front of her, leaving a couple of steps between them. “If it helps, you can yell at me some more.”

She rolls her eyes, tries to hide her growing smile. “As tempting as that is, you better go outside before he drags you out.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, nudging her foot with his own. “I’ll probably wear him out…”

“There’s no point,” she says, shoving him in the general direction of the back door. “Your son already talked me into making something sweet to eat later. I’ll make sure there’s enough for three.”

Rio  _ beams.  _ He knows whatever she’ll make, it’ll be good. Everything he knows about cooking and baking and whatever is down to his dad and her but it also makes him happy to know that Marcus is still just as convincing, maybe even more so. Realistically, Rhea would put her foot down if she had to but they both know that unless there’s a serious reason to say no, Marcus is great at convincing them to say yes.

It simultaneously helps to ease the ever-present pressure in his chest but also reminds him of everything he has missed and everything he  _ could  _ have missed if things had been a lot worse.

By the time Rio gets outside, Marcus is kicking the ball around, doing his best to dribble and shit, the kid’s pretty good, a whole lot better than he had been when they used to mess around at the park. He’s already dragged his bike over to be one of the goalposts and Rio shrugs out of his hoodie to use as the other goal post.

For the most part, it goes well. Marcus laughs and cheers and actually does a pretty decent job at stealing the ball and scoring goals. That tightness in Rio’s chest eases all the while and manages to stay at bay enough to help him fully enjoy himself. The problem is that there are moments where Marcus seems to catch himself. Where he’ll look at Rio like he might suddenly leave again or if they slip into conversation about what he’s been up to, he’ll suddenly close off. It’s a work in progress but Rio grasps to the better moments, to the laughter and the joy and the times where it feels like Marcus will forgive him someday.

It makes him feel so good that when he comes back inside, he leans in to kiss Rhea’s cheek before leaning on the island counter next to where she stands. She raises a brow at him because, yeah, it’s not exactly their kind of affection anymore but she doesn’t actually say anything, just rolls her eyes at him and pushes away to grab the orange juice from the fridge and some glasses.

“He’s good, right?”

“Can definitely see why you signed him up.”

“I mean, he was always okay at least,” Rhea says, pouring out three glasses and settling them on the island counter in front of Rio. “You just want him to do basketball.”

He shrugs, taking one of the glasses and drinking some. “He’s gonna run out of sports eventually.”

“Well, if he does suddenly decide basketball is what he wants to do, it’ll make talking to him a lot easier.”

Rio frowns, watching as she sips her own drink. “Talk to him about what?”

“That there’s no more soccer. At least not for a while.”

“Why’s that? It get cancelled or something?”

“Well, no, but I mean…” She motions vaguely, dropping her voice. “Her youngest goes. Jane.”

“I know, mama, but it’s gonna look weird if he suddenly stops going. You said her sister and friend saw you with Marcus at her house so they already know who you are and they’re gonna start to wonder.”

“I could say he lost interest.”

“I doubt anyone’s gonna believe that plus it’ll be good for him.”

“He was looking forward to maybe trying different positions other than goalie,” Rhea admits, chewing on her bottom lip. “Does this mean you’re not gonna watch any of his games?”

“Not right now, I-”

“You’re not going to watch me play?”

Rio whips around to see Marcus standing in the doorway. He’s pouting, his eyes darting down to the ground and Rio can tell that he’s gonna start crying no matter how hard he tries not to. The small voice, the disappointing tone, it sobers Rio up in a painful way.

“I want to.”

“But you won’t.”

Marcus gently kicks the ground before heading back outside. He’s not angry, he’s  _ disappointed  _ and that strikes Rio deeper. He closes his eyes against the image of Marcus’ slumped shoulders and heartbroken expression.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he tells Rhea who nods like she knows like she hadn’t doubted that. “Going to those games is dangerous for me. Even if Jane doesn’t go anymore, it’s not worth being seen.”

“Because they’ll know you did it.”

“Yeah.”

She runs a hand over her face. “I can talk to him and make him understand.”

“Nah, I got it.”

Rio picks up his glass and the untouched third one before heading over to the back door. He finds Marcus kicking the ball against the fence, letting it roll back to him before kicking it again. Instead of calling him over, Rio sits down on the steps outside the door and waits.

He just watched and drank his own orange juice until, eventually, Marcus shuffles over and takes the other glass. There isn’t too much in it but he’s careful as he brings it up to his lips, grasping the glass with both hands while he slowly sips. He doesn’t look at Rio and that’s fair enough. If he hadn't been gone so long and if things weren’t so complicated, he might have told him off.

“I wish I could explain why I can’t go and watch you play soccer.”

“You don’t want to.”

“No.” He pats the space beside him and after a moment of consideration, Marcus sits down, his eyes downcast. “It’s complicated but the first chance I get, I’m gonna be right there cheering and until then, we could practice here.”

“Yeah?” Marcus asks, the tiniest bit of hope in his tone.

“Yeah, and I want to know  _ everything _ ,” Rio tells him. “Every single detail of how the game went.”

“You’re not mad?”

Rio wraps his arm around Marcus. “What makes you think I’d be mad?”

“Because I want to play soccer.”

It’s not like he can tell him that it was more down to  _ who  _ got him involved in soccer but he can at least go with a half-truth. “I was just surprised.”

“So it’s okay?”

“If it’s what you wanna do then it’s more than okay.”

Marcus’ face lights up but Rio can tell underneath it, he’s still unsure. That it’s more of a case of taking what he can get and Rio wants to give him everything, he does, but it’s not worth the risks to give it all to him now. In the meantime, he’ll sit here and kick the ball around some more and try to give Marcus just enough so that he knows his dad is trying.

* * *

When Rio had finally left, Marcus was smiling again. That big, bright, hopeful smile. Even Rhea had seemed a little more at ease over the idea of Marcus continuing soccer and sure, it was still a bit of a risk. There was nothing to stop Marcus from mentioning his dad was home but even just for a couple more weeks, it would help.

It would help…

Help with...

With…

By the time he gets back into his apartment, Rio feels like he can’t breathe again. He checks in with Mick again for something to do and Rhea too even though he’d just left her place. He takes a shot of vodka from a bottle he’s got stashed away and then he works out until his body aches and he’s so tired he can barely stand still.

It stops him from spiralling.

It helps him to fall asleep.

It  _ doesn’t  _ stop the nightmare.

The whole thing happens suddenly and then continues to play out painfully slow. One moment, Rio’s head hits the pillow and the next he’s back in his old apartment. It’s dark but there’s a subtle tint of blue around the space from the outside lighting shining in through the windows.

Turner’s tied up against that post and Elizabeth’s got the gun in her hand. It's all achingly familiar. She refuses to shoot and she's ranting at him and then he's snapping and suddenly the gun goes off. He remembers how it felt, the silence right before the pain, but this time when he looks up at her, it's like tunnel vision. All he can see is her face.

Her mouth is agape and she looks startled by the turn of events. He can see it written in her expression, she hadn't meant to do it. There's this urge to change course, to not move but to just reach out to her, to tell her it's okay, to put the gun down. He’s managed to talk her down before and maybe she’ll believe him again this time. He opens his mouth to do it but nothing comes out and then he's striding towards her and she shoots again and again.

It all happens slowly and his tunnel vision continues and the entire time, all he can see is her face. Even as the pain rips through him, it’s only her. The way her expression changed from shock to one of determination as she pulled the trigger two more times but now that he’s on the floor and he’s coughing up blood, she’s just  _ standing there  _ and he remembers it. Remembers the burning and the fucking surreal feeling that this was the furthest thing from his mind when he had made plans for that night. Only, unlike that night, he can’t see anything other than her face.

She  _ is  _ just standing there but she’s staring at him like she’s going to break at any moment, like the weight of the night has lifted and she’s herself again and it’s finally hit her what she’s done. 

Rio can tell when Turner makes his presence known again because she’s moving to look in his direction only her eyes are slow to follow. It makes him want to reach out again and tell her it’s okay even though he’s lying there, choking on his own blood and experiencing a burning sensation unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Maybe it’s because he knows how it ends, that he  _ survives, _ but then just like that night, she leaves and there’s only darkness where she was before and he aches in a new way.

She left him there with a man who would happily have their heads on a silver platter. She left him there to, for all she knew,  _ die.  _ That was one of the biggest fuck yous of the whole thing, right? Maybe he  _ could  _ have let her get away with it if she had stopped at one bullet or hell if she had just stayed with him but she didn’t. As the world around him goes black, his focus shifts.

When he startles awakes there’s this odd sensation around him. The air is quiet, the only sounds are the hammering of his heart and his rapid breathing. There’s a sheen of sweat across his skin.

He drags himself to sit back against the headboard, replaying the details over and over in his head. A lot of her expressions he hadn’t noticed that night. It makes him wonder if they’re even real. Had she looked  _ that  _ determined or was it his anger? His justification? Had she looked that close to breaking once he was on the ground or was that his guilt? It’s definitely just his mind filling in blanks but regardless of the why, she still left him there,  _ that _ was real.

His mind shifts focus like it had begun to do in the nightmare and suddenly he’s thinking about holding her after he shot her. How he  _ couldn’t  _ leave her there to die, that he needed to be with her until the end. It’s supposed to make him feel better but there’s this sinking feeling in his stomach that maybe the night she shot him, she didn’t  _ want  _ to leave him. He thinks about her broken look, the loss of determination, and it has to be made up, it can’t be real. It can’t. It can’t. It can’t.

Shoving up off the bed, he stumbles over to his wardrobe and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. Once they’re on, he shoves on his converse and loosely does them up. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, just throws his hoodie on instead and zips it up a little to hold it together before pulling his hood up. As he grabs his keys, he knows there’s no chance in hell he could go to Rhea’s. She’d ask too many questions and he doesn’t want to rely on Marcus’ presence in that way. There’s the bar but the thought of accidentally running into Mick seems just as terrible. He just needs to get out at the very least.

And he’s right. Outside, the air that hits him cools him down some. It’s not a complete fix but it does offer some relief. He takes a brief moment, eyes closed, breathing slowly before he’s continuing on to his car.

Without a destination in mind, he drives.

It’s like being on autopilot. Aware enough to not crash his car or cause any accidents but unaware enough to not realise he’s pulling up outside his old apartment until he’s already parked. Not that he gets out. He doesn’t want to run into old neighbours or find the place is lived in and even if it’s not, he’s not sure he wants to see the space again.

He’d moved out after Elizabeth followed him because keeping shit separate is key and yeah, he didn’t like her being able to tap into his more personal side but when it comes down to it, Rio loved the apartment. It was the first one since he had Marcus that started to feel right. It wouldn’t have lasted forever, eventually Marcus would’ve needed a bigger room and one with a door, but it was their space and there was still plenty of room to grow, lots to add, and it was just the start.

Now he’s pretty sure it’ll only remind him of not only how bad things went but how quickly. Still, his nightmare brought him here and, sitting in his car with the radio on low, he tries not to think about it too much. He tries not to think about the sudden focus on her that night and how it’s gnawing its way into the back of his mind, making him rethink the whole situation because  _ she shot him  _ and not only that but she  _ left him there. _ Nothing else matters.

At least that’s what Rio tells himself as he sits there for a few moments longer before drives away.

* * *

It’s after a boiling hot shower and a half-eaten breakfast that Rio leaves home again and this time, he goes straight to the bar to meet with Mick. The solution he came up with after driving home from his old apartment, is to busy himself. It’s  _ not  _ burying his head in the sand, it’s making priorities and she’s no longer one. Other than making sure they can’t be tied to her death, he’s decided there shouldn’t be another thought spent on her.

When he gets to the bar, Mick is over by the pool table. He tilts his head in acknowledgement and Rio makes his way over to sit on one of the stools, waiting. 

“It’s good news all ‘round,” Mick says when he finally comes over.

“Oh yeah?”

“Moneywise, it looks like we’re gonna get a pretty decent haul.”

Rio nods. “So no complaints?”

“The usual, people trying to get out of paying ‘cause it was me showing up at their doors and not you.” Mick shrugs. “Nothing we’re not used to. Word is gonna get around that I’m taking over, debts are gonna land on me pretty quickly.”

“I’m gonna work up a list of who to pay back first,” Rio says. “If you’re up for playing boss for a little bit.”

Mick grins. “Could be fun.”

Smiling, Rio shakes his head, because he knows that while that’s probably true, Mick will get bored of being the boss pretty quickly. “What about Niall?”

“We’re good so far on the autopsy front but everything else is still a bit of a mystery.”

“You think we should worry?”

“Nah, he didn’t seem too pressed about it, said there wasn’t much to go on.” He huffs, leaning over the bar to grab a bottle of vodka stuffed underneath and then two glasses. Settling them down, he pours a little into each and slides one over. “You need to relax. We’re basically hand feeding them this shit.”

“You won’t be saying that when they bite our hands.”

“There’s nothing to tie us to this and we’re gonna get rid of another problem in the process.”

Rio picks up the glass and downs the contents. He knows that’s true. Sure, they rarely leave bodies for the cops to find but it’s not the first time they’ve had to do it. They were careful and really, Turner is the anomaly here. As far as Rio can figure, a lot of what he did wasn’t by the book and chances are he kept a lot to himself. It’s part hope, part relying on Niall that’s gonna keep any incriminating paperwork Tuner might have away from this case.

As the silence stretches, Mick fills his own glass again. “You gonna be good keeping off everyone’s radar until this comes to a close?”

“Gonna spend more time with Marcus and concentrate on him.”

“Does she know?”

And Rio knows he means Rhea. The history the three of them have got between them is lengthy and deep and he knows there’s no point in lying.

“She wanted to know.”

“I wouldn’t usually question it but…”

Rio shakes his head. “She won’t tell anyone. She knows it’ll make things a whole lot worse.”

“You know, Marcus might tell someone.”

“She spoke to him,” Rio offers up. Which is true. It had been one of the things they’d discussed when he’d checked in with her before he went to sleep, before the nightmare. He shakes his head a little at it, refusing to fall down that rabbit hole. “I feel kinda shitty about it but she told him that if anyone knew I was back, I’d have to go right back to work and won’t be able to see him again for a bit.”

“If it wasn’t for the initial fallout, I would’ve kept an eye on them.”

Rio had actually thought about that a lot, how differently things would’ve gone if Mick or  _ anyone  _ had been tasked with checking in on Rhea and Marcus. All of the people he trusts with that task would’ve seen Elizabeth and then she wouldn’t have wormed her way in and got so close. They certainly wouldn’t be at this point where he can’t stop thinking about the guilt he knows Rhea is feeling.

It had been for the best though. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to Rhea and Marcus by having his guys following them around. She knew what to do if something went wrong, he’d made sure of it but shit, if he hadn’t wondered.

“Nah, it’s good. I really didn’t think that would be something I’d have to worry about.”

He finishes what’s left in his glass and pushes up from his stool. Mick nods, motioning to the space around them. “I’ll be here all day while it’s quiet. I’ll call if anything happens.”

Rio nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets to stop the shaking that he can already feel coming on. He’s pleased about being able to spend more time with Marcus, _ he is,  _ and he’ll still technically be working, coming up with a plan of action now Mick is reclaiming what they’re owed, but the thought of sitting around with not much to do is already playing with his mind.

* * *

It’s as soon as he gets through the front door that Rio begins to think that every time he shows up, Rhea is gonna be in a different kind of mood. This time she’s pissed off. Upset as well but mostly pissed. It’s barely contained but Marcus doesn’t seem to notice as he instantly begins to spill every detail of soccer which confuses the fuck out of Rio to say the least because soccer wasn’t today. 

He doesn’t stop Marcus though, instead he listens to every detail and even goes out back so he can be shown some things too. They play a couple of small games, letting Marcus practice different positions before Rio’s able to convince him to keep practising on his own for a bit, wondering how the kid isn’t exhausted already.

“He had soccer today?” Rio asks as he slips in through the back door, this time positioning himself in the kitchen so he can keep his eye on it.

Rhea’s cutting up some fruit. “No but after what happened, coach Freddie asked if we could all come to discuss what’s going to happen.”

“They cancel it?”

“Not exactly,” she explains, voice neutral but her shoulders are too tense and there are little signs that tell him she’s still upset. “A couple of sessions might get cancelled until things settle down that way the Bolands can have some time and maybe Jane could start coming back without feeling like she’s missed out on too much. If she wants to, of course.”

“Right, right,” he says, giving her space to continue on at her own speed.

“Afterward a few of the kids decided to kick the ball around and Freddie stuck around a little to show them some things to practice in the meantime.”

“So what part got you so pissed?”

At that, she slams the knife down a little too hard on the counter. “The other parents couldn’t stop talking about how they found her body.”

Rio studies her carefully, trying to keep his own expression blank. He watches as  _ she _ watches  _ him _ , her chest heaving a little before she goes back to cutting fruit. He pretends not to notice the tears as he averts his gaze over to the back door.

“What’d they say?”

She finishes cutting the strawberries before settling the knife back down, gentler this time. “You left her there all night. You could have directed the cops to her.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It would’ve been too risky. Besides, I did make sure she’d be found, I just couldn’t rush it.”

“I understand that she fucked things up for you but couldn’t you have… Why didn’t you-”

“Why didn’t I what?” he asks, trying to hold in the irritation because he gets it, he does, but… “Get rid of her body so no one will ever find it? So her family can’t bury her and they start pointing fingers in my direction the second they realise I’m back in town?”

“No, that’s not-” She blinks at him. “Plenty of people have pointed fingers at you and nothing has happened and isn’t that a risk in this situation  _ regardless?”  _ She eyes him carefully. “Why risk letting her be found?”

Rio looks at her, knows he’s gonna have to throw her a bone. “So maybe you were right. Maybe it was a little different.”

Thing is, he knows exactly who is gonna go down for Elizabeth’s murder. Some low life who’s fucked him over a couple of times but is so slippery, he seems to get away with it every time. That had been an incentive in letting them find the body but also because, yeah, a part of him couldn’t stomach the thought of her being cut up or burnt or dumped in the river or buried in an unmarked grave or whatever. It had been enough to almost make him call the whole thing off a few times so then he’d adjusted the plan to work in his favour so that he could do what needed to be done.

“What did she do to you?”

He opens his mouth just as Marcus comes clambering into the house, kicking his shoes off by the door before hurrying over to sit on the stool beside Rio’s. Happy to be saved from that particular conversation, Rio grabs a handful of grapes, earning a disapproving look from Rhea in the process, and holds them between him and Marcus who happily pops one into his mouth and grins.

* * *

After being saved from having to answer Rhea’s question, Rio made sure they were never or rarely alone. He played games with Marcus and watched a movie and even stayed for dinner. He basically never left the kid’s side until he had to go and even then, he didn’t linger long. Thing is, he’s pretty sure telling Rhea about Elizabeth shooting him would ease up a few things but after his nightmare, he doesn’t even want to think about the night any more than he has to.

When he gets home, it’s not too late so he showers for the second time that day and organises his closet just for something to do and then, when it’s late enough that he’s swaying a little from exhaustion, he drinks. Dragging the bottle of vodka from the cupboard, he pours a glass, drinks it quickly (too quickly) and then pours another, sipping this one slowly. It’s just to calm his nerves. To help him sleep.

And it works well. His mind feels clear enough that he’s able to shut out all the lights and close his eyes and drift off to sleep without any wild thoughts keeping him up. It feels good at first. The way his entire body seems to relax as he starts to drift off but it turns out worse than the night before.

It takes Rio a minute to realise where he is —  _ when  _ he is — and it doesn’t help much that it’s a nightmare. If that little tidbit was enough to make him wake up then  _ maybe  _ but it doesn’t do him much good once he sees the gun in his hand and Elizabeth right in front of him.

He’s seen flashes of the night he killed her in his head so many times already that he was hoping that would be it but now here he is, the whole thing playing out as if in slow motion but it’s not just that. Like his previous nightmare, he’s got tunnel vision. All he can focus on is her and again, it all feels a little off.

One of the things he constantly goes back to is her face. The way she had looked terrified then hopeful, like she’d come up with the best speech to talk him out of it, the way it had faded quickly into confusion and then a whole array of emotions once she’d realised what had happened. He’s played through every single one in the short time since that night but  _ this  _ is different. She’s watching him, sure, but it’s like she’s studying him. Her eyes raking over his face, her hands clutching at his shirt. It makes him want to fidget but his dream self doesn’t, instead, he just holds onto her, keeps her upright as long as he can.

The whole time her eyes never leave him. She studies him like she’s trying to figure him out and that didn’t happen. He’s sure of it.

All he can do is watch her back, his body refusing to react. 

When Rio wakes, he flies up into a sitting position, grasping frantically at thin air. At the realisation that he can move again but is no longer dreaming, he falls back onto the bed, an empty feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach. He stares up at the dark space above him for a few moments before he rolls out of bed to go in search of that vodka bottle.

* * *

Luckily for Rio, he doesn’t drink too much before he collapses back into bed and falls right to sleep, this time with no nightmares or dreams in sight. With a shower and some coffee and a little bit of food, he manages to wipe away any trace of his troublesome night. So much so that he doesn’t have to fake the entirety of his upbeat attitude when he pulls up at Rhea’s house when he knows they’ll be back from school and work. Well, at least that upbeat feeling lasts until she blocks him from coming inside as soon as she opens the door.

“You gonna make me stand out here all day?”

She chews on her bottom lip, looking back over her shoulder into the house. “I’ll let you in but we’ve got to finish our conversation before you do anything with Marcus.”

Rio feigns confusion. “What conversation?”

“I want to know what she did and how we ended up in this mess.”

“We? This ain’t a ‘we’ situation, you weren’t supposed to know anything.”

“Well, if it’s all on you then maybe I don’t think it’s safe for you to be here around Marcus.”

He narrows his eyes at her, holding back on the temptation to push past her or to just go around back. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I am in this whether you like it or not,” she says, pointing her finger at him. “I have been ever since she approached me and ever since you came here that night. So you’re going to tell me what happened or I  _ will  _ dare.”

Rio just stares at her. He knows she’ll do it and realistically, he knows he doesn’t have a chance against it not without making things a million times worse. It might even do some good, to actually be able to tell someone other than Mick about what happened that night or some of it anyway. Or maybe it’s just due to his interrupted sleep schedule, still, he nods.

“You better make sure he’s distracted.”

Pushing away from the door, Rhea finally lets him into the house. He doesn’t move from the front door as she goes to see Marcus. He listens for a moment as they talk and once he’s sure Marcus has disappeared out back, Rio steps further into the house.

Rhea motions to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does as he’s told, waiting while she goes and makes them both some tea. Once she joins them, they sit silently, sipping their drinks but Rio knows she’ll wait him out as long as she has to and he won’t be allowed to move from his seat until then. It makes him feel like a fucking child but he guesses if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t be this kind or patient about it.

“You’re really not gonna drop this?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve done enough waiting and honestly, can it be as bad as what I’m imagining? It’s gotta be bad for you to...” She motions vaguely. “But believe me, it’s worse not knowing.”

He settles his cup down and sinks a little in his seat. “She shot me.”

Rhea blinks. “She… Are you sure?”

“Nah, I just woke up with scars for no reason.”

_ “Scars?  _ As in more than one?”

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Three times.”

“She shot you…” Rhea swallows before gulping down some of her tea and Rio can tell she wishes it was something stronger. “What I said before, I just meant that despite her lies, I wouldn’t have thought she would even know  _ how  _ to shoot a gun.”

“Yeah, well, I taught her.”

Rhea snorts. “Seriously?”

“It’s not like I planned on her using it against me.”

“What  _ were  _ you planning on?”

“When I taught her or when I got shot?”

“The latter, mostly, now stop delaying.”

He pushes forward to lean on the table. “Everything was starting to go to shit, I thought I’d be able to fix some of it. She wasn’t supposed to shoot me.”

She gives him a disbelieving look. “Who was she supposed to shoot?”

“Trust me,” he begins, giving her a stern look because this is one thing he won’t budge on. “It’s best you don’t know.”

“Come on-”

“I miscalculated, okay? I thought I’d figured it all out but I never considered she’d turn the gun on me.”

Rhea sinks a little reluctantly into her seat. “Why did she?”

“I handled it wrong.” It feels strange to say it. Leaves a bad taste in his mouth to admit that maybe he played a part, that maybe he shouldn’t be that surprised that Elizabeth turned the gun on him, that at least the first shot maybe made sense. All he can think about is her face in that first nightmare, however, the point still stands- “But she left me there, bleeding on the floor, with only  _ him  _ for help.”

Rhea’s brow creases. “Who?”

“Told you, it’s best you don’t know.”

At first, it seems like she might argue but then she nods. “So, what, if she’d stuck around to help you, she’d be alive right now?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’d like to think it would’ve ended this way whether she stayed or not.”

“‘Cause it’s easier than admitting she’s special or that-”

“Don’t.”

“-you might be regretting it?”

He rubs his face furiously before standing up. “Nah, I think admitting to myself that she was special is what got me in this mess in the first place.”

When Rhea doesn’t say anything, Rio moves to walk past her but as he does, she grabs his sleeve. “Did she know?”

He doesn’t say anything and after a moment, she lets go.

* * *

After his conversation with Rhea, sticking around to play with Marcus suddenly felt like a bad idea. Still, he did his best. They played with some of his puzzles and some video game Rhea had bought him recently. It’s not like it’s hard to be happy around Marcus. He brings so much light into the room that it’sinfectious so every smile Rio gave him was genuine but the conversation he had just with Rhea was in the back of his mind the entire time.

He’s surprised he made it up until dinner but he couldn’t stay a moment longer. He made excuses — mostly to Marcus who thankfully bought them with little protest — and then he was back in his car, driving away before Rhea could corner him.

There’s nothing planned about it, he just drives around, but somehow he ends up outside  _ her  _ house. It’s like a goddamn curse at this point and it’s fucking annoying. The sooner she’s in the ground and the cops are done looking into her case, the better, because it’s gotta be, right? He runs a hand over his face as he looks over at her house. It’s gotta end at some point. The nightmares, these feelings-

He draws back suddenly, checking the time before glancing back at the house as it hits him that the entire place is dark. Grabbing his phone, he scrolls to Mick’s number and dials.

“Hey,” Rio says once it picks up. “You know anything about her family?”

The sounds of the bar quiet down, presumably as Mick moves into the back room. “What’d you mean?”

“They still around?”

There’s a pause and then a very audible and  _ annoyed  _ sigh. “Where are you?”

“It ain’t like I planned it.”

“If someone sees you you’re gonna fuck this up.”

Rio huffs but turns on the engine nonetheless. “I never left the car. I just noticed the house was all shut up as I was passing.”

“Well,” Mick begins, clearly not buying any of it. “Would you wanna go home after your wife was killed?”

“You’re also forgetting this dumbass knows who we are and what we do.”

There’s another pause, this one a lot longer. “I’ll look into it.”

Without another word, Rio hangs up, tossing his phone onto the passenger seat before he finally pulls away and leaves her street. There’s an urge to look back, to wonder. All those times he’d broken in, there’d always been a light on. Even just a small one. Maybe it’s just ‘cause she’s not around to do it anymore but something about her house being dark and empty, it doesn’t feel right. He’s not quite sure what he expected.

Then again, so far none of this is what he expected.

He keeps telling himself as he’s driving that finding out where her family is and knowing they haven’t run to the cops or done something stupid will make him feel better, that  _ that’s  _ what’s bothering him. Not that it’s easy to believe when all he can think about is every single time he was inside her house and not even just the times he pointed a gun at her. Despite it all, the one time he tries not to think about is  _ that  _ time.

_ (“‘Cause it’s easier than admitting she’s special or that-” _

_ “Don’t.” _

_ “-you might be regretting it?”) _

Rio shakes his head, willing his mind not to go there as he makes it to the bar and parks around back, opting for that entrance as opposed to moving through the crowd. It’s easier to block out his thoughts then. The noise from the front of the bar travels through the corridors, making it hard to concentrate on anything else and then he’s at the office door, pushing inside to find Mick sitting behind the desk.

Rio doesn’t ask him to move, just sits down in the chair across from him. “Need more time?”

“His mom lives in Detroit.”

“Yeah?”

“Now, can’t say for sure,” Mick starts. “But there’s a couple of cars parked out front, one is hers.”

Rio hums, sinking into his seat. “No one went up to the house, right?”

“No one,” he agrees. “Just drove by. Can always look further into it though.”

“Nah, you were probably right,” Rio admits. “They probably didn’t want to stay in that house.”

“I was gonna go talk to Niall before you called.”

“Good or bad?”

Mick scoffs, pushing up from his seat. “Good I hope.”

There’s a brief acknowledgement between them as he leaves the room and it’s only once he’s gone, that Rio gets up. He moves around to the other side of the desk, sinking into the big office chair and reaching towards one of the desk draws. He tugs it up, pulling out the bottle inside and groans when he realises it’s bourbon.

A goddamn curse.

He takes a mouthful straight from the bottle anyway.

* * *

It’s hot. Enough that Rio’s glad he didn’t have a chance to grab a jacket or hoodie on his way out this morning. Really, it’s a nice day all ‘round. The park is relatively quiet and his mind, for once, doesn’t feel like it’s in overload. He sighs, placing his arm along the back of the park bench. If it wasn’t such a tricky thing to maneuver, he’d probably retire if it meant his days could be like this. Shit, maybe he should’ve stayed playing dead and actually lived out that bullshit beach fantasy he’d told Turner.

Rolling his head a little, he glances to the side and it’s sudden the way the dread hits him. It’s like a bucket of ice pouring right over him, his entire body clenching as his breath catches in this throat as he eyes her.

_ Elizabeth _ .

It’s almost too much. The realisation that he’s dreaming drains any contentment he had but he tries to hold onto the fact that this is different. It’s a dream, not a nightmare. She’s alive. They’re at the park. This could be any of the times they’ve met up at one. Both sitting on different benches.

Maybe this is his chance. He’ll say something (not that he should have to) and he’ll wake up and he’ll go about his normal life again.

Rio’s not entirely sure why he thinks it’ll work but he’s moving before he can talk himself out of it. He walks right up to her bench and sits down beside her, leaving just enough space to fit another person. Only, when he turns to talk to her, she isn’t there. He glances further across to see her sitting on a new bench, right next to the one he’s just settled on. Already, he can feel the sinking feeling in his stomach but still, he tries again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

On and on but every time he settles onto the bench beside her, she’s suddenly sitting on a new one. He even tries calling out to her, hoping she can come to him, but every time she seems completely oblivious to him and then he can’t take it anymore so he tries to go to her again.

There’s one time when he calls her name and she stills, straightening up slightly, but as she begins to turn towards him, he wakes up.

It’s different this time. There’s just an emptiness inside of him and he’s calm. He stares at the clock on his bedside table, mulling over the way she looked. No different to any of the many days he’d seen her at the park but it was nice. Maybe it was the daylight setting or the fact that nobody got shot this time or died.

It fucks with him that he actually wants to go back to sleep this time. That he’s  _ eager  _ to.

* * *

When Rhea’s door opens up, he doesn’t give her a chance to do or say anything. He simply moves past her into the house, smiling a little at the annoyed huff he hears behind him. He settles the box of doughnuts on the island counter and pulls out two mugs, filling them both with coffee.

“You realise what time it is, right? He’s not here,” she tells him. “And it’s early enough that I was gonna lay on the couch and watch crappy TV so unless you wanna be subjected to that…”

“Actually this is all about you.”

“I don’t…” She settles down on one of the stools and takes the coffee from him when he hands it over. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t normally get dragged into this shit,” he says, standing across the island counter from her. He nudges the box of doughnuts towards her. “But we’ve been talking about me, not you.”

“I didn’t shoot someone.”

He watches as she takes a doughnut. A chocolate ring one with chocolate sprinkles all over it. He picks out the same kind. “That don’t matter.”

“I’ve been wanting to check in on them,” she admits after picking a little at her doughnut but not actually eating it. “Her family.”

“Probably not the best idea,” he says but from the look on her face, she knows that. “Why?”

“It’s just talk. I’m not actually going to do anything.”

“Tell me.”

“When coach Freddie asked us all to meet up, it wasn’t just her body they were all gossiping about.” She sips a little on her coffee and Rio just waits her out, picking at his doughnut. “They started speculating. Bringing up how their dealership was raided by the FBI.”

“They thinking she was killed deliberately?”

“No.” Rhea shakes her head. “Nothing like that but they also talked about how there was… Trouble in paradise.”

“I don’t understand.”

She waves him off. “It doesn’t matter, point is, it got me thinking. Right before you showed back up, I found out she was having money troubles so bad she might lose her house. I gave her some money and she mentioned she was gonna pay me back the night you…  _ You know  _ .”

“So…?”

She sighs. “Funerals are expensive.”

He feels his whole body tense as he picks off a piece of his doughnut and eats it, taking way longer than necessary to finish the tiny piece. “Probably got insurance and there’s tons of people to chip in. Shit, strangers will probably donate to make sure she gets buried properly. Either way, it is what it is.”

‘That’s not-”

“What? Fair?” He shakes his head. “It ain’t our problem.”

“It’s not just about her though.” Rhea pushes her coffee and doughnut away. “You know, her youngest, Jane, sleeps with a blanket still? A force out on the field but can’t handle sleeping without that.” And yeah, he knows. He remembers turning up at that damn crack house just to find that it was a fucking pink blanket Elizabeth had risked her life for. “And her second eldest, Danny, loves soccer in theory but  _ hates  _ the game. Cries every time the ball comes near him. And her other daughter? Emma? Asks her mama to rub her back when she has a bad dream.”

Rio swallows. “You’re only making it worse on yourself.”

“Hopefully they’re too young but her eldest is definitely old enough to remember every detail about this funeral and what if it’s horrible? What if they can’t afford to say goodbye to her properly?”

“You don’t even know if it will be.”

“They were going to lose their house and I didn’t give them nearly enough to completely wipe away their problems. If I had to guess, I only bought them some time.”

“Knowing Elizabeth, she probably planned the whole thing herself,” Rio says. “And I bet she was careful to make sure that it wasn’t expensive.”

_ “Knowing Elizabeth,”  _ she mimics, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m just saying, you’re worrying for nothing.”

Rhea doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Maybe.”

He lets out a breath, knowing she won’t drop it completely. “Will you stop if I promise to look into it?”

She gives him a small smile. “Would you?”

“I’ll try and find out what’s going on.”

This time when she reaches for her doughnut, she actually begins to eat it. “Thank you."

"What are you expecting to happen anyway? You gonna give them money if I’m wrong?  _ My  _ money?"

"I'll use my own money if I have to or get a loan or something if you're gonna make a big deal out of it."

Rio scoffs, eating the rest of his doughnut. He watches as Rhea does the same with hers, finishing up her tea as well. When he gets to his own tea, he sips slowly.

"It ain't really your problem and they're just gonna assume it's my money. Her husband won't take it."

"I don't think he knows who I am, I never actually met him, it's just her friend and sister who saw me with Marcus."

"She lied to you," Rio reminds her although he knows he doesn’t have to.

"I know but after what she did, after she thought she'd  _ killed  _ you, she came around and she tried to help."

He gives her an unimpressed look. "By getting Marcus into soccer?"

"Amongst other things but my point is that she realised we would suffer and she did something or tried to anyway. Now we know that her kids will suffer if this funeral is a mess so if we have to, we should do something."

“It won’t bring her back to them.”

“Nothing she said would have brought you back if you were dead.”

Rio sighs. "Thought you was pissed at her and now you're talking about all the good shit she did for Marcus?"

"He was going to be miserable either way," she admits. "Either because you're dead or just because you went off somewhere. No matter the reason, he was going to miss you and crawl into my bed to cry. I think I was more pissed that she lied to me at all."

"You miss her?"

"Do you?"

He taps the side of his cup. "Gonna need something stronger if we're going down that road."

"I just want to do something so I can go on with my life. So I can feel like I have that right."

Rio sighs, feeling a heaviness settle over him. "I shouldn't have told you."

"I asked you to.

"Should've lied."

Rhea shakes her head. "I'm glad you didn't. The wondering would have been worse."

At that, Rio watches her carefully, wondering how they'd both ended up being fucked by the same woman and not in the good way. If he's being honest with himself, he'd already decided he was gonna put money towards Elizabeth's funeral the moment Rhea mentioned it might be an issue. Not that he’s gonna admit it out loud because it’s fucked up enough as it is and it’ll mean admitting that he’s spiralling even more than he has so far.

"Crappy tv, huh?" he asks, motioning towards the living room.

"I'll settle for a low-budget movie."

He moves around to her and holds out a hand, pulling her up when she takes it. He guides her over to the couch where he sits down first and, after grabbing the remote from the coffee table, she settles beside him. Once she finds an appropriate title, Rhea turns up the volume and leans into his side. His arm wraps around her as he sinks a little lower in his seat.

* * *

After the first movie, they watched another and they talked some in-between, keeping themselves busy until she had to go and pick Marcus up. Rio was tempted to go with her or ask if he could stay until they got back but the former seemed reckless and well, there’s a difference between showing up in the evenings and already being there when the kid got home. It’s why they always had rules.

Still, Rio ups and leaves when she does, feeling a whole mix of things. The thought of Elizabeth and her funeral rattling around in his head. She’ll get put to rest one way or another, it shouldn’t bother him how specifically but it does. It bothers him like he wasn’t the one who ended her life in the first place and maybe that’s it, the guilt gnawing away at him, making him feel like he’s got to make sure she gets the right send-off when really, she don’t deserve shit from him.

At the end of the day, he knows he’s gonna do it though. Even if not for her, for Rhea. There’s no point in finding himself a way to move on if she’s stuck in the past. If there  _ is  _ a problem and helping to solve it helps Rhea to move on, Rio will do it.

He does feel a little lighter though when he gets home. Manages to make dinner from scratch and enjoy it, take a shower and not be overwhelmed with his thoughts, and hell, he even manages to sit and listen to some music and actually enjoy himself.

This time, he doesn’t drink at all and he’s glad for it because he ends up getting a call from Rhea, asking if he’ll take Marcus for the weekend. It’s only an hour before the kid’s supposed to be in bed but Rio wasn’t about to bring that up, agreeing instantly that he’ll take him. What better way to make up for lost time than not having to say goodbye to him at the end of the day? At least for a couple of nights anyway.

When the knock comes on his apartment door, Rio’s there in an instant, throwing it open and grinning down as Marcus beams at him. He picks him up, throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him into the apartment to drop him down on the couch. 

“So, this place is a little different from the last.”

“It's got more doors.”

Rio chuckles and begins pointing them out. “Yeah, that one over there is my room, that’s the bathroom, and that last one is yours. It’s still small like before and just ‘cause you got a door now, doesn’t mean you can make a mess.”

“I’ll keep it clean!”

Rio pokes his side gently. “I hope so. Now, it ain’t done yet, I still need to buy some stuff but why don’t you go and take a look?”

With an enthusiastic nod, Marcus is already jumping off the couch and darting across the room before he even says “okay” and all Rio can do is laugh. He waits until Marcus is actually inside his room before he turns back to Rhea, who’s smiling softly.

“Why this weekend?”

“Are you back at work? I never did ask.”

He huffs a little, motioning over to the kitchen where he goes and makes them both some coffee. “Not right now. I got Mick working on something for me but it’s not time to get back to it.”

“And once you do?” she asks, taking her coffee from him. “Is it going to be different from before?”

“We don’t talk about this.”

“Right, right,” she agrees, sipping on her coffee. “Well then tell me this, are you going to disappear again?”

“Not the way I did.” He pauses. “Or, I’m gonna do my best not to.”

“He misses you and getting back his weekends with you will be good for him.”

“I’ll make it right.”

Rhea nods, drinking some more. “I packed him some things in his backpack, I wasn’t sure what you had for him.”

“You gonna be okay this weekend?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He gives her a pointed look and she sighs, running a hand over her face. “I miss her, okay? I know I shouldn’t but I do. Hating her was easier than this and I know having Marcus around helps you, it helps me too, but I need a night or two alone so I can…”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“I shouldn’t cry over her.”

He moves over until he’s stood right beside her but she doesn’t turn to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders slump a little and when she talks, her voice isn’t cruel, just quiet.  _ “Don’t.” _

Now she does turn to him. She presses her cheek to his shoulder, leaning into him briefly before she moves past him. He doesn’t turn but he can hear her talking quietly to Marcus, saying when she’ll be back and that she’ll miss him and kissing him repeatedly until he squeals. Rio scratches the back of his head, smiling a little to himself. Once he hears Marcus say goodbye, Rio turns in time to see him hurrying back into his room.

He pushes away from the kitchen and meets Rhea by the front door. When she steps out into the hall, he leans against the door, watching her carefully.

“I am sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Not for what you did.”

Part of him wants to tell her how wrong she is. To tell her about the growing guilt and the nightmares and the thoughts he has but he doesn’t. Instead, he goes for something that's still true and that he can stomach to say out loud. “That you’re hurting then.”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting too," she tells him softly. "Even if you won’t admit it.”

Before Rio can say anything, she turns away from him. He stands there, watching until she rounds the corner and even then, he doesn’t move right away. When he does, it’s to get Marcus ready for bed, to read to him a little and yeah, maybe to lay with for a while in the hopes of obtaining that sense of peace Rio knows he’ll get from it.


	2. We die, maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter! I read every single one of them, I honestly just didn't have much time to reply to them but I'm very thankful to you all and to anyone who read the first chapter, left kudos on it, subscribed/bookmarked it. I appreciate every single one of you for giving it a shot :)

It takes longer than it should for Rio to notice that there have been no nightmares or dreams. He’s woken up early or rather, at a more decent hour than he has done lately and for a while, he just lays there in the dark feeling oddly hollow. He figures it’s probably because he’s been distracted. It was late when Marcus was dropped off so the next day — _yesterday_ — Rio had made sure they busied themselves from the moment they got up to the moment they went to bed. Now, on their second full day together, he’s planning on making sure their schedule is just as busy which is a fucking talent if you ask him considering he’s reluctant to leave the apartment too much and he’s gotta find stuff they can do together indoors. If he doesn’t dream tonight, his point will be proved, he’s too busy to think about her. _Finally._

That’s something he can work with. Admittedly he hasn’t really done much in the way of helping on the business end of things but maybe if he steps that up and continues to drop in often to see Marcus and decorates his place a little bit, he can fill up his schedule so much he won’t ever have time to think about her. Other than making sure she and her case are put to rest, he can finally cut her out of his life completely, which- He reaches over to grab his phone from the nightstand and sends off a message to Mick, asking him to check in on what’s happening with her funeral. It’s too early to call him about it and well, Rio can’t be bothered with the questions and judgemental tone he knows he’ll get. 

Settling back onto the bed, the room is getting brighter, waking him up a little more. Being on the fourth floor, he’d never put much effort into closing his curtains perfectly so now a good amount of light streams in through the gaps, hitting the bed. There’s something about the way it makes patterns across the covers that has him thinking of that time in her bedroom when they-

He sits up, knocking the covers away. Even when he thinks he can stop, when he can finally shake her, he can’t. She’s practically crawling inside of him as soon as he falls asleep and then refuses to leave once he’s awake. Not that he should be surprised by it, it was basically the same when she was alive. It didn’t matter why they were in the same space together, it especially didn’t fucking matter if he was there to see her for good reasons or bad reasons, every single time they went their separate ways, _she was there_. Inside his head, on his skin, in every little thing he did. It would make him eager for the next time they would be in the same space, make him desperate to be physically closer to her, make him embarrassingly hopeful that he would learn something new about her but then, even if there wasn’t anything to learn, he would just be excited to know which Elizabeth he would be dealing with that time.

Rio had decided very early on that he likes every side of her. Even that overly fake, PTA mom-mode she slips — _slipped_ –– into. There was something far too calculated and kind of genius about the whole thing that all he could do was admire her. Of course, there were his favourite sides of her and sure, some of them annoyed the fuck out of him if he wasn’t in the right mood but he would definitely pay attention to every single one and relish in them all because they were all _her._

There’s a tiny knock at his bedroom door and it rips him out of his thoughts. A moment later, it cracks open and Marcus’ head pokes through the gap. Rio motions for him to come in.

“You been awake long?” he asks, to which Marcus shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. When he gets close enough, Rio picks him up, settling him down on the bed beside him. “I’m thinking we can make breakfast together instead of cereal today.”

That seems to wake Marcus up a little more. “Pancakes?”

Rio nudges him playfully. “We can make _anything_ and you want pancakes?”

“Yeah! Can we put chocolate chips in them?”

“We’ll have to see what we’ve got first.”

Grabbing some dark blue sweat pants and a grey t-shirt, he tugs both on before nudging Marcus forward gently, prompting him to run out towards the kitchen. Just as Rio is about to step through the doorway, he swears he hears his name from somewhere behind him and worse, in _her_ voice. He whips around so quickly he almost loses his balance but, of course, the room is empty.

He clears his throat a little when he hears Marcus calling for him from the kitchen and while he does begin to turn away again, his eyes can’t help but do another scan over his bedroom. The temptation to check inside his closet and under the bed is a lot stronger than it should be but fuck, he _did_ hear her voice. There was no way he would mistake that. He waits a moment longer, straining to try and hear her again but when nothing happens, he finally moves towards the kitchen.

“So are there chocolate chips?”

Rio blinks, his mind still back in his bedroom. When he looks, Marcus is perched on one of the stools at the island counter. “What?”

“Chocolate chips.”

“Chocolate… Right, right.” He shakes his head a little, moving to the cupboards and opening them up to pull out the ingredients they’ll need. While it’s not the same thing, there's a bar of milk-chocolate stashed away. “Good enough?” Marcus grins as he spots the bar and nods happily. Placing all of the ingredients on the table, Rio also pulls out a big mixing bowl, some measuring cups, and utensils. He lays them all out on the island counter, along with the recipe from his stash above the cooker. “Think you can measure all of that out?”

“Yeah!” Marcus says happily like he isn’t prone to making the biggest messes when they cook together.

At first, Rio just watches him pull everything a little closer and try his best to carefully measure it all. It’ll probably be a little wrong somewhere but it usually always works out. While Marcus is distracted, Rio pushes over to the fridge to grab what they need from there. With the stuff in his arms, he leans into the cold radiating from the open fridge and tries to breathe. It was probably just because his thoughts were interrupted by the knock on his bedroom door. It must’ve been the wind outside or some other noise and his brain just squashed it all together so it sounded like her. There’s no other reason for it unless he’s losing it, which-

He puts the final ingredients on the island counter and settles into putting a frying pan on the cooker, ready for when they need to use it. There’s some brief relief when he has to help Marcus with the ingredients, mostly cracking the egg and cutting the chocolate into small chunks, and then together they gradually add everything to the mixing bowl and start to mix it. Eventually, Rio moves to the other side of the island counter, opposite Marcus, and watches as he keeps stirring for the right consistency.

“Mom’s sad.”

Rio’s eyes snap up to try and find Marcus’ but his are downcast, watching the bowl intently as he mixes the ingredients together. His tongue is poking out slightly as he concentrates and his words are so matter-of-fact that Rio can’t tell if he’s bothered by it or not.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, trying not to get too in his head about it just yet. He knows _why_ she’s sad, it’s more the fact that it’s gotten to her so deeply that it’s become hard to hide that bothers him. “How do you know that?”

“She cries,” Marcus says. “She thinks I don’t notice.”

“Yeah, well-”

“Is it about Mrs Boland?”

This time, Marcus’ eyes find Rio's and it has to be this moment that the latter finds his chest tightening. He looks away, grabbing the flour and sieves some into the bowl when he notices the mixture is a little too runny although really, it’s more for something to do. It’s like he’s forgotten how to breathe but he wills himself to remember, to take at least one breath and then another and then another.

“What’d you mean?”

“We went to see coach Freddie and they were all talking about her.”

Rio moves back around the island counter so he can stand behind Marcus, he settles his hands on either side of him, watching as he goes back to mixing. “You eavesdropping again?”

“No!” he says, voice bright. “They talk _really_ loud.”

“So what were they saying?” Rio asks, doing his best to keep his voice light.

“That she was cold.”

Rio swallows against the lump in his throat, reminds himself to breathe, tries to loosen his grip on the counter. “Yeah?”

“Why was she out all night?” Marcus asks, craning his head back to look up. “Did she forget her coat? Is she sick?”

And it hits Rio then, that Marcus doesn’t know what specifically is wrong with Elizabeth only that _something_ is wrong. He could just tell him, everyone knows after all, but he figures that should be a conversation Rhea is involved in. So, Rio motions for Marcus to get back to mixing just so the kid won’t be looking right at him.

“You’re mom’s good, okay?” Rio tells him. “She’s just a little tired but why don’t I talk to her and make sure, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marcus agrees, sounding a little relieved. “What about Mrs Boland?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know about that but I’m sure everything is fine.”

“I hope so. I don’t want Jane to be sad too.”

Rio runs a hand over his face. He moves away again, focusing on turning on the stove and prepping the frying pan. He puts some butter into it, letting it melt slightly. As he pushes the rest of the butter around, he counts his breaths.

When he turns back, Marcus has pushed the bowl across the island counter and is carefully climbing down from his stool. Rio gently kicks the little step-stool he’d bought for Marcus towards the counter, a little further along from the cooker. He then picks up the bowl with one hand and uses his free arm to pick Marcus up, making him giggle, a sound that eases the thick tension Rio feels all around himself. He carefully settles Marcus down on the step-stool and puts the bowl in front of him, quickly replacing the whisk with a ladle.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s see who makes the best pancakes.”

“Me!”

“Remember, don’t touch,” Rio warns him as he lifts the pan off the cooker, holding it out for Marcus to pour some batter onto it.

“Can we use it all?” Marcus asks, eyeing the pan as it’s put back on the heat.

Normally, no. Both he and Rhea have always put some of the pancake-batter by for later or even the next day but with how the morning has gone so far, Rio’s willing to break the rules a little.

“Sure,” he says. “But don’t get used to it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell mom.”

It’s second-nature the way Rio rolls his eyes because yes, that’s really what he means.

* * *

The rest of the day is certainly something. Thinking back, Rio can remember it all. He remembers eating pancakes and washing up the dishes while Marcus changed out of his pyjamas. He remembers how they brushed their teeth together and then watched some fucking awful cartoons that he only put up with because at least they seemed to be educational and then they played some games. Old board games to start with and then with some of the action figures Marcus had brought with him and because there wasn’t much space to kick a ball around (‘cause shit morning or not, Rio wasn’t gonna risk his furniture), they watched some soccer instead. It was all broken up with some more food and ended with Marcus having a bath and asking if they could read a story before bed.

He remembers all of it. Remembers every smile and laugh and even everything that Marcus said to him. He remembers showering and stripping out of his clothes and climbing into bed to fall into another dreamless sleep but the problem, Rio finds, as he lays in bed the following morning staring up at the ceiling, is that it doesn’t feel like he really lived any of it. It’s like someone recorded the whole thing and showed it to him and told him that’s how his day had gone.

Maybe he is losing it.

Figures he might actually be.

This morning, in that moment right before he woke up, he could’ve sworn he heard Elizabeth’s voice again. Soft and quiet and calling his name like before. Maybe he was just about to dream of her again. That had to be it, right?

It had dawned on him pretty quickly that Marcus would be going back to Rhea’s and he’d forced himself out of bed so as not to lose the remaining couple of hours or so that they had together. Now that they’re both cleaned, fed, and dressed for the day he sits on the edge of Marcus’ bed, listening while Marcus moves around the space and lists the different things he would like for his new room. Not that Rio plans on buying it all, half of it will be forgotten about after a few weeks but it’s much easier to judge what Marcus is most excited about by letting him ramble on.

It’s also just _nice_ and besides, Rio likes the idea that Marcus will pick out his own colours and furniture and other little details. That had been the case to some extent with his old bedroom but being shoved into such a small space meant certain decisions had to be made by an adult so it could function properly but shit, in this room, Marcus could have a floor-to-ceiling dinosaur statue if he wanted. Of course, ‘could’ being the operative word there.

“Dad,” Marcus says suddenly, drawing Rio out of his thoughts. “When can I see Jane? I miss her and soccer.” He points to the wall opposite the bed. “That wall looks empty.”

“Empty, huh?”

“Maybe a TV?”

Rio manages to laugh at that, picking up the stuffed t-rex from the bed and throwing it gently at Marcus who just about manages to catch it. “Nice try but it’s still a no.”

He huffs, defeated, and flops down face-first onto the bean bag in the corner of the room. It had been a bit of an impulse buy just to fill the space up a little until there was more time but Marcus had taken a decent enough liking to it over the weekend and so it’s staying. It makes a lot of noise as Marcus wiggles against it so he can pop his head up into view.

“What about Jane?”

“I don’t know about that,” Rio says, willing the tightness in this voice to go because he’s only being honest and it's just a harmless question. “Might have to wait for soccer to start back up again.” Luckily for him, the buzzer on the front door sounds and Rio quickly stands. “You gonna stay in here while I talk with your mom?”

Marcus grins up at him, something that’s a bit of a feat considering he’s still squashed into the bean bag. “Can I play with my toys?”

“‘Course,” Rio tells him as he heads over to the door. “Remember you gotta clean it all up when your mom tells you it’s time to go.”

There’s some sound of acknowledgement from Marcus but he’s already too busy moving up from where he is to go and get some toys to play with. As Rio steps quietly out of the room, he gently tugs the door behind him, only leaving it open ever so slightly.

The buzzer sounds again as he makes his way to the front door, peering back to make sure Marcus hasn’t gotten curious. When he opens the door, Rhea moves into the apartment, chatting away about how she knows she didn’t give him an exact time but she was in the area but all Rio can concentrate on is the fact she’s moving closer to Marcus’ bedroom door and just-

He tugs her to one side, pulling her closer to the kitchen instead and away from Marcus’ bedroom door. She eyes him carefully, clearly trying to suss out what the hell he’s up to and he suddenly doesn’t feel all that great about discussing what he and Marcus had spoken about.

“Marcus asked about her.”

There’s a moment where Rhea doesn’t quite understand but then she draws back, staring wide-eyed at him and he lets her arm go. _“Why?”_

“He overheard some of the parents that day you were all asked to meet with his soccer coach,” Rio explains, hurrying on when a nauseous look passes over Rhea’s face. “Just that she was cold and out all night. He thinks she’s sick.”

“Jesus.” She buries her head in her hands. “What’d you say?”

“I said I didn’t know, that I thought it would be fine.”

Her head snaps up to stare at him. “Why did you tell him that?”

Rio doesn’t take her tone or the way she’s looking at him to heart. He’d probably be a little on the defensive too if their roles were reversed. “‘Cause I figured you’d wanna discuss it.”

“Right.” She takes a breath, her features softening. _“Right_. Why did this come up anyway?”

“He’s noticed you crying and wanted to know why you’re sad.”

She bites her lip, eyes darting to the bedroom door. “What did you say to that?”

“That you’re tired but that I’d check,” he says, tugging on her sleeve to pull her a little closer to him. She refuses at first but eventually steps closer, taking a moment before looking up at him. “Mama, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re the only one I can _really_ talk to about this but that doesn’t mean I should.”

“Why not?”

“Are you going to talk to me about it?” She sighs as his eyes dart away from her. “I messed up, okay? I got too in my head about this and I-”

“Hey, _no.”_ His eyes find hers as he tugs at her sleeve again. “You didn’t mess anything up.”

She exhales slowly, eyes drifting shut. “What are we gonna do?”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea for you.”

He eyes her carefully. “For me?”

“If you want to do it then do it but are you telling me you’re going to be able to look him in the eye and tell him she’s-” Rhea glances towards Marcus’ room again “ _-dead_ when you’re the one who did it?”

“It’s fucked up whether I tell him or you do.”

“Yeah but I think it’s going to hurt you less if I do it.”

“He’ll want to see Jane,” he points out, ignoring her comment. “Already asked about it and I told him it might have to wait for soccer to start up.”

She nods a little. “I’ll try to put it off as much as I can.”

Rio almost opens his mouth and admits to her, and to himself, that he messed up, that killing Elizabeth had been a mistake because there’s so much he hadn’t considered would be affected by it. If he had just stuck around that day he found out about Rhea’s new friend then maybe he would have seen how close the two of them had gotten, how close Marcus had gotten to Jane, just how much things had changed. Maybe then he wouldn’t have done it and he wouldn’t be in this fucking awful position of knowing his family were hurting thanks to something he did but he isn’t completely ready to admit it he messed up because, despite all that pain, he’s not entirely sure he did do the wrong thing.

But still, he looks Rhea and wonders how the fuck she can still stand there in front of him, how she can care enough to give him an out in this particular situation. It’s too overwhelming so Rio's eyes dart over to Marcus’ bedroom to make sure the coast is clear before he leans down to pull Rhea up into a hug. It’s not like they don’t ever do this but considering the questions about what’s going on, he doesn’t want Marcus to feel any more concern than he has so far. At first, Rhea stiffens but then she’s hugging him back, pressing her face into his neck and sighing.

When she pulls away, she clears her throat a little before turning away from him to go and collect Marcus from his room. Rio is smiling when they both appear, ready to leave. He says his goodbyes to them, hugging Marcus probably a little too tightly, and then throws a look to Rhea that he hopes conveys that he’ll be there to talk to Marcus if she needs him.

Even though her eyes divert quickly, she gives a quick nod. He doesn’t hold them up any longer, only gives repeated goodbyes to Marcus who keeps yelling “bye!” as they walk down the corridor and out of sight.

Turning back into his apartment and letting the door close behind him, Rio finally pulls out his phone. He holds his breath when he sees a text from Mick. His finger hovers over it before he finally presses down. As much as he shouldn’t care, he feels relieved when he reads that Elizabeth’s funeral has, in fact, been paid for. He scrolls through the message, reading the details and somehow the relief only grows when he sees that she’s having a small, short service and will be buried. There’s a lump that begins to form in this throat when he reads that it’s happening in a couple of days. He pauses at the thought, his eyes drifting shut. At least she isn’t just going to be cremated in some back room and handed off in a barely sustainable box just to cut corners. At least her kids get to say good and others can come to mourn. At that, he thinks about Rhea and wonders if she will actually go. He pushes that thought down because it’s not his decision. Instead, he sends her a text, relaying the message in hopes that it’ll ease her some.

* * *

Once Marcus and Rhea had left, Rio found himself leaving the apartment to buy some of the things he needed to finish Marcus’ room. It takes up more time than he expects and he’s thankful for it. He knows that Marcus will probably want to move some things around when he next comes over but still, Rio spends his time finding a spot for everything and even repaints the walls. It’s exactly the type of distraction he needs.

Afterwards, he preps some food for later before he wanders through his apartment, reorganising things that don't need to be sorted, and then he cooks and eats the food when later comes. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop doing things, but the thing he ends up doing the most is drink.

He paces himself, sipping slowly, stretching it out so the vodka bottle will last longer. Every time he thinks about her, every time he thinks he hears her voice, every time he misses his nightmares, every time he worries about Rhea or Marcus, every time he feels anything other than relief for having gotten back at Elizabeth for what she did to him. There isn’t much he doesn’t drink for so when the contents of the bottle dips below the quarter mark, he stops using a glass altogether and simply moves to take a mouthful every now and then straight from the bottle.

It helps him pass out quickly when he goes to bed and he tumbles into a dreamless sleep. He figures it’s probably also the reason why he sleeps until well into the afternoon, only being woken by the insistent buzzing of his phone. It makes his head pound even more and he groans, burying his head under his pillow as he blindly reaches towards the nightstand.

He finds it, poking his head out from under the pillow just enough to answer the call and press it to his ear. “What?”

“Mornin’,” Mick says and at the exaggerated cheer in his voice and the sheer volume of it, Rio groans. “That bad, huh?”

“What do you want?”

“The next part of the plan is happening.”

Rio pushes up, knocking the pillow completely away and rolls onto his back. “Today?”

“Well, with the evidence they’ve picked up, Niall’s just gonna start making sure they’re headed in the right direction.”

“And he’s sure he can do it?” 

“He’s done this a hundred times before.” Which- _True._ Only, with how much things have been turned upside down so far, Rio’s start to second guess a lot of things and wouldn’t it just be the icing on the cake if the cops came knocking on his door and Niall lacked his usual subtlety this one time. At the expanding silence, Mick sighs. “He’s good at what he does because you sure as shit wouldn’t be paying him as much as you do if he weren’t.”

Rio laughs, regretting it instantly. “Well, we’ll know if he is when they pick up their suspect.”

There’s a moment where the silence seems to encompass them again and he begins to wonder if Mick will pry a little further into it and start asking about his sudden doubts but he doesn’t.

“Take it I’m not gonna see you today.”

“Everything’s already too loud.”

“What was that?” Mick yells. “Couldn’t hear you.”

The noise that comes out of Rio is, unfortunately, a whimper. He buries his face in his pillow for a moment. “Fuck you,” he manages to bite out before promptly hanging up the phone. 

He manages to drift back to sleep for another hour or so, waking up to his stomach rumbling and his head still pounding, albeit a little less than before. He rolls out of bed, thankful for the mostly-closed curtains that keep the room cast primarily in shadows. He showers, pulling on his softest pair of sweatpants and the baggiest t-shirt he owns before going in search of food.

While the soup warms on the stove, he takes some painkillers, washing it down with some tea. He turns with the intention of stirring the soup when there’s a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye. He swivels towards it but his eyes only fall on the front door and he lets out a breath, eyes closing as the world spins a little. It’s trickier to concentrate then on what he’s supposed to be doing but he pushes through and stirs his soup, pouring it into a bowl.

As he settles on one of the stools at the island counter, he swears he sees another flash of blonde over by the couch but it comes up empty again. While he eats his soup, he keeps his head down, refusing to look anywhere else. Seeing her in his nightmares was one thing. Fuck, missing those was bad enough so was hearing her voice but actually _seeing_ her in his apartment? That’s a whole other level of messed up.

 _It’s not her_ , Rio promptly tells himself. He figures it's probably just the hangover. He repeats it to himself over and over again as another flash of blonde appears when he makes his way around to put his dish in the sink. He almost drops the bowl, grabbing it in such a way that the remains of the soup get on his hand. He settles it down a little too harshly into the sink, thankful it didn’t break, and washes his hands.

It happens quickly after that. The more he tries not to look or think, the more he seems to see. Not only flashes of blonde but flashes of a dark sweater, of pale skin, of a face. _Her_ face. That last one strikes him so deeply he actually turns to the spot — over by his bedroom door — where he had seen it and glares even though there’s nothing there.

“Fuck. Off.”

His jaw is tight as he continues to stare at the space where he had seen her face. While only a flash, his mind fills in the gaps. Her bright blue eyes, that little smile she gives when she thinks no one is looking, the blush that fans out across her cheeks, her lips, soft and plump on the bottom. He thinks about how they’d be pink, maybe more of a coral. He thinks about how he'd finally been able to press his lips to them. 

There’s a tension throughout his body and he’s pissed. He just wants it to _stop._ It’s all too much, too real. He storms towards his bedroom door, half expecting her to appear suddenly but when she doesn’t, he pushes into the room and grabs his gun from the safe in his closet.

Once it’s loaded, he’s back out in the living room. He grips the gun tightly, eyes darting around the room. Guilt… Punishment… It’s got to be _something._ He knows she isn’t real, that she’s just in his head, but he figures if she shows herself and actually talks, he can figure out what’s going on. There’s nothing he can do about any of it if he can’t understand and if that means talking to himself, pretending that it’s really her there, then fine. He doesn’t care about her, he _doesn’t,_ but it’s all just too… He huffs, settling down on the couch as he realises she’s not going to appear. His eyes drift to the bedroom door, to the last place he’d seen her. It’s overwhelming. He can’t breathe. He looks down at the gun in his hand, shifts it to test the weight and runs a finger gently over the trigger.

When he looks back up, it feels like he’s underwater. There’s no air getting into him and he aches in so many different ways.

_“Please.”_

It’s soft, barely above a whisper. His jaw eases, his whole body relaxes as he finally feels like he can breathe again, but he never stops looking. He tries to fight the urge that crawls up inside of him but it’s too much, too hard, so he when he closes his eyes and settles even further into the couch, he asks her— _begs_ her — to come back.

And she does. That night when he goes to sleep he finally dreams of her again. This one is better, not by much, but enough not to be too torturous. If he’s being honest, he’s just happy to see her again like this and not in the quick, persistent flashes around his apartment.

They’re in her backyard sitting on that picnic bench of hers just like they had been that day he came over and found out all of her money had been stolen from her thanks to her dumbass husband. _I’ll take care of it for you_. It had even been before he kissed her, before he realised what had been inside of them and between them for fuck knows how long. Before he knew he was done for and before things went drastically downhill.

Elizabeth’s wearing, he quickly realises, the outfit she died in. There seems to be no actual evidence of that night though and he’s thankful for it. From his position, he can only see the side of her face and while she might be talking away, there’s no sound. It makes him ache, not knowing what she’s saying and he wishes she would just turn to him but he knows it won’t happen. His mind wanders briefly to his previous nightmare, his insistent attempts to sit with her. For now, he’s pleased to be close to her. He can wait for her to talk to him directly or maybe, it’s a case of waiting for his mind to let him listen. He’d already heard her speak his name in his apartment and- _Shit._ He tries not to think about that. Instead, he thinks about her _now_ , sitting right beside him.

She smells like that day in her bedroom. A subtle perfume, something floral. Like then, it's faint but still there. He’s sure if his dream self could lean in closer without fear of her disappearing on him, he might even smell the drink on her breath. He’d tasted it that day too, on her lips, on her tongue. 

“Thank you,” his dream self whispers but she doesn’t turn nor does she stop talking. “For coming back.”

He’s fucking definitely lost his mind. Rio almost chokes on a laugh, a short and bitter sound, at the thought of it but he has to have, right? To think he’s seeing her around his apartment and hearing her voice and to believe that there is any kind of control over the things he’s dreaming about. It’s just guilt over Rhea and over Marcus and sure, maybe a little over Elizabeth too but it’ll pass. It’s his own head trying to navigate through what he’s done and nothing more but yet, here he is, staring at her as she faces out over her yard and he genuinely means his thanks, genuinely feels like she’s come back to him after the recent absence of night-time visits.

This dream, like the others, is slow but not slow enough. When he wakes, there’s a peace that settles over him but it’s quickly replaced with emptiness. It feels strange, to simultaneously feel relief and misery.

It takes him a moment to realise that she’s going to be buried today.

* * *

Rio doesn’t go to the funeral. It’s too risky for starters but it’s also not right. It’s not like he’s ever gone to the funeral of the other people he’s killed and well, it wouldn’t really be the right kind of goodbye for them. So instead, head full of his most recent dream, he drives by her house again. 

As he approaches it, he notices the place is still dark and that curiosity spikes in him again. He wonders if they’re still at Dean's mother’s and what they’re going to do with the house but he forces himself to push it all down because he’s not got much time. He doesn’t stop, he simply slows down.

It’s just a house. A house she got with her husband, for her kids, it’s not _theirs_ but it’s a piece. Just like the bar where they first had sex or the warehouse where she left her pearls or the Fine and Frugal she robbed. There are so many others, different places that make up their space because they never had one, not really.

He thinks about her house again. He thinks about the first time he saw her, he thinks about waiting for her to come home after he was arrested, he thinks about when she asked if he was going to kill her, and then he thinks about when they had kissed and when they had- He drives faster, leaving her street and her house behind him.

When he’s sure he’s far enough away, he pulls over and switches the engine off. There are several minutes where he simply closes his eyes and focuses on breathing. He then pulls his phone out, immediately scrolling to Gretchen’s number and hits call.

It picks up almost instantly.

“You can’t possibly have gotten yourself into trouble already.”

Rio huffs. He’d only told Mick to relay the bare minimum to her and then he had visited her himself after the whole Turner ordeal was done. See, Gretchen’s great at what she does, worth every cent he spends on her, and she’ll uphold her responsibility to keep his goings-on a secret but that's mostly because she tells him to keep things vague and speak in hypotheticals unless he absolutely needs her to know something. Which, by that point, he’s usually in handcuffs and about to be charged with something. Besides, getting shot three times and being held up in a hotel suite for far too long has made Rio hold his cards even closer to his chest.

“Hello to you too.”

“Can you blame me? You only call when you need me to bail you out of something.”

And, _fair_. “That you hinting that you want me to take you out somewhere?”

Gretchen scoffs. “As long as you keep paying me, I don’t mind if that’s all you call me for, but this is a bit quick even for you.”

“I’m not in trouble.” There’s a long pause. _“Seriously.”_

“So who is?”

“No one,” he says. “You remember Elizabeth, right?”

Another pause and when she speaks this time, her voice is tight. “Is this about what happened?”

 _Did you do it?_ Is the unsaid question that Rio hears instead and he knows she doesn't actually want to know the answer to it. “Nah, it’s about her family. Her husband, her sister, and her friend. I want you to check in on them.”

“The friend’s name?”

“Ruby,” he tells her. “Couldn’t tell you her last name though.”

He’d been told it not long after the initial Fine and Frugal robbery but if he’s being honest, he’d forgotten her first name, and Annie’s, for a long time so he couldn’t exactly be expected to remember their last names. Gretchen doesn’t seem to think of it as a problem though, just hums in response.

“And what am I looking for exactly?”

“What they’re up to,” Rio says. “Her husband’s been living at his mother’s since it happened so I want to know how permanent that is.”

Gretchen lets out a slow, irritated breath. “How many of them know what you do?”

“All three.”

He can imagine it. The way she’s probably slumped in her seat, a scowl on her face. “It’s a miracle you’re not serving a long sentence.”

“You’re a pretty expensive miracle.”

“I’m fucking good at what I do.”

Rio laughs. “It’s nothing to worry about. I just want to know what’s happening. It’s not like I can just walk up and ask them.”

“I would tell you not to get into trouble.”

“Oh, counsellor,” he starts with mock offence. “I would _never_ get into trouble.”

He’s sure he hears her mutter ‘asshole’ under her breath.

“I’m only going to do what I can without ruffling any feathers and attracting unwanted attention,” she warns him. “I’ll get in touch once I know more.”

He thanks her and she makes a noise of acknowledgement before hanging up. It is necessary, he reminds himself, to know what the three of them are up to. There can’t be any surprises but deep down inside of him, he's aware that he simply wants to know. Like that will maybe ease him some, to know that this bubble of destruction that she and him created hasn’t stretched too far and hasn’t caused too much irreversible damage.

It’s that thought that has his mind turning back to Rhea and this time, when he starts the car, he heads in the general direction of her house.

For a while, he drives around. He never did check in to see if Rhea actually went to the funeral or not and if she did, there’s the possibility of her sticking around after the fact. He could text her but he finds a part of him just wants to put it off for a little while longer.

When he does finally show up, he’s tense. Parking up, he genuinely considers just driving on and seeing her tomorrow or waiting to see if she calls him but her car is parked out front and well, the thought of her seeing him drive off without coming inside feels a lot shittier than showing up when he’s not in the mood.

And she must’ve been watching because he’s only just shut the car door when her front door opens up. 

As he gets closer, Rio eyes the black dress she’s wearing. He figures she must’ve dug it out last minute because she keeps tugging the skirt down like she’s sure it should be longer than it is but the second she stops tugging, the material pings back up to just above her knees. One of the three-quarter-length sleeves is pushed up a little and out of the three buttons at her chest (buttons he figures are more for show that genuine practicality), the top one is undone, opening the neckline up a little more. He doesn’t even have to look at her face to know she’s frazzled.

“How’d it go?”

“It was a funeral.”

Rio hums, moving past her into the house. He looks around instinctively even though he knows Marcus won’t be there.

“I decided this morning that I was going to go.”

He turns around to see Rhea closing the front door and leaning back against it. “It didn’t feel right to go, not when I know the things I do, but then this morning, it didn’t feel right to _not_ go so things ended up being a little frantic.”

“Did it feel better to go?”

“I think I would have regretted not going but I wouldn’t say it felt good to be there.”

He nods slowly, doesn’t actually consider answering. A funeral of any kind isn’t going to be fun but he supposes there is a whole different layer to it when you’re sitting there knowing why the person is dead and who did it, not to mention keeping those details to yourself when it would be so easy to tell someone, anyone. 

“Do you regret not going?” she asks, drawing him out of his thoughts just as they begin to spiral.

“I couldn’t go.”

“Because it’s risky, I know,” she says, pushing off the door and moving towards him. “But say it wasn’t, would you have gone?”

He thinks about seeing flashes of Elizabeth in his apartment and all of the times he’s seen her after he’d fallen asleep and the way memories of their time together would flash in his mind while he was just trying to live his life and- “No.”

“I stayed near the back,” she tells him, bypassing him to go and sit on the couch. “I was planning to come straight back here but there was food at her mother-in-law’s place.”

“Did you go?”

Rhea looks over her shoulder at him. “Yeah, for a bit, and I mean, I wouldn’t have gone but it was one of her kids who told me about it.”

At that, Rio moves over to sit on the couch with her, his insides twisting up something awful. It’s a little harder to breathe or to think properly. He’d seen a lot more of her kids before it all went wrong. Mostly from a distance, watching them run around the park with Marcus, but enough to recognise their faces and see how Elizabeth interacted with them. “Yeah?”

“It was Danny.” There’s a fond smile on her face as she says his name, one that twists Rio up even more inside. “I said once that he was my hero and I think I genuinely meant it. He’s got that attitude but it’s obviously just his age because he’s _sweet_ , you know? Came right up to me and said ‘hello’ and asked me if I was okay. Kid just lost his mom and he’s asking if _I’m_ okay.” She shakes her head in disbelief and all Rio can do is nods. “And I can tell it’s ‘cause that’s what she would do, right? Make sure everyone else is okay and so Danny tells me that there’s food at his grandmother’s and everyone’s going there and I can’t say no. Not to him.”

When Rio talks, his voice is croaky and Rhea notices, eyeing him carefully. “What about her other kids?”

“They were all pretty quiet, even after the actual service. Kenny helped out some at his grandmother's house, mostly when he was asked to, but I think he was secretly happy to have something to do. I didn’t see Emma much, she was pretty much glued to Beth’s sister.”

“Annie,” Rio notes, mostly because he feels he has to. “And the youngest? _Jane._ ”

“Sometimes she was pretty talkative but then, like she would remember what was happening, she’d go all quiet. She had her blanket with her the entire time.”

“Pink thing? Kinda old?”

Rhea nods slowly and yeah, Rio figures it really was that important then. He still doesn’t regret calling Elizabeth out that night. She was stupid and deserved to be on the receiving end of his harsh words but now he thinks of the blanket and what Rhea had said about Jane being unable to sleep without it and now she’s probably been carrying the thing around with her as much as possible since Elizabeth died or rather, since she didn’t come home one night.

“I get why you didn’t go,” she says, sinking down into the couch. “It was hard, pretending like we were still friends in the end, like things hadn’t changed right before.”

“I couldn’t go,” he reminds her. “And it was probably hard because you _were_ friends in the end. At least you thought you were.”

“I’m curious,” she begins, ignoring what he’s said. “Would you have pretended to be okay with her if you had gone? Or would you have played the whole, ‘I’m dangerous and she crossed me’ attitude to fend people off?”

“What like I’m there to make sure she’s actually dead?”

Rhea shrugs. “I guess but you see, which of those would’ve been harder for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Letting your anger front for you while knowing that you still care or letting the fact you care front for you while knowing your anger and pain is part of the reason she’s dead… Which would have been harder for you to pull off if you went?”

“I never actually said I cared.”

She gives him a smile. A small, sympathetic one that makes him want to curl away. “You’ve never had to.”

Rio puts his head back. He knows his silence will only confirm what Rhea believes but he can’t think of what to say, how to explain. All he can think about is Elizabeth.

“How can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Be here with me,” he says quietly, gesturing around vaguely. “Sit with me and talk with me and keep this secret.”

She shrugs ever so slightly. “Well, there’s something bigger than the both of us to consider.”

 _Marcus_. The thing is, Rio knows that Rhea understands he’ll take care of them even if he is behind bars and she has to know that he would never blame her if she couldn’t keep this secret, it’s why he normally keeps her out of it, so she would never have to make this decision. “That’s it?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Try,” he urges softly.

She moves, sitting up straight and lifting her legs up onto the couch to tuck beneath herself. With one hand, she covers the lower half of her face and she wraps the other arm around her body, her eyes fully on him.

“When I look at you I think about her,” she admits. His heart quickens at that, his breath laboured again but he doesn’t say anything. He wants her to keep talking. “I think about what you did but I also think about what you two must have been like and how there’s even a ‘you two’ in the first place.”

“She robbed me,” he says quietly but then he pushes on, speaking a little louder now. “Talked her way out of a bullet to the head and then proved she might be useful.”

“Was she?” Rhea asks. “I mean, I figured she must have been if you worked together but…”

“She blends in.”

“Blended.”

He blinks at the correction but then slowly nods because it’s hardly the first time he’s had to correct himself. “Yeah, she _blended_ in and she had a business I could use and shit, she’s was pretty fucking ballsy too.”

“I know a lot was kept from me but I can actually believe that.”

Rio watches her smile at that and he sighs. “Rhea.”

Her next words come quickly and with no bite to them. “I think if you were anyone else I’d run a mile.”

“I wish I was someone else.” He takes a moment, wonders if he wants to ask his next question before he just forces it out anyway. “What else do you think about when you look at me?”

She opens her mouth but promptly shuts it and he can’t tell if it’s because she thought better of whatever it was she was about to say or if she knows that giving some quick rebuttal won’t do. Either way, he waits her out. He can see the emotions flitting across her face as she tries to figure out what to say or perhaps just _how_ to say it.

“When I look at you I feel torn.”

“Yeah?”

“On the one hand, I’m angry,” she continues on. “You were right, it is different. She _was_ my friend. Even though she was lying to me, _I_ thought it was real and suddenly everything was wrong and I was upset and hurt and angry with her but then… Then I was grieving before I could really process any of that and inside I’m still upset with her for what she did and that she lied to me for so long but I’m also sad that she’s gone so I guess I just end up being angry at you.”

“And on the other hand?”

“I think about what she did to you and I know, there’s a lot of details, a lot of moving pieces, but I think about how she really could have killed you and I’m not saying that her being dead is necessarily okay but I do get it. I...” She trails off, her eyes slowly scanning over him. “Can I see?”

It takes a second for him to realise what she means and he sits up properly now, right on the edge of the couch with a strong temptation to make a run for it. “No.”

“If you really don’t want to, I get it,” she tells him softly. It’s that voice she uses with Marcus when she wants him to know he’s not in trouble and she wants him to know it’s okay to open up. “But I’d like to see what happened to you.”

“So… What?” he asks, doing his best to keep that irritated tone out of his voice, the defensive one. “You can try and forget the things I might have done that led to it? So you can feel better about being okay with-”

“I don’t know what to do,” she cuts in, her voice tight and a little angry and _sad_. “Deep down I knew what you would do when you caught up to her. I might not have known what she did to you at that point but I could tell what you had in mind. I… We… It’s a lot”

He relaxes his body, expression softening. “If you’d known you wouldn’t have let me out that door. You wouldn’t have let me go to meet her in your place.”

“I knew.”

Her voice is quiet but he knows she means it and well, he can’t say if it’s true or not. Maybe deep down she did know. Keeping a distance between her and what he does is one thing but she’s not stupid, she knows enough and it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that she would jump to the right conclusion. She did already seem to know when he had shown back up to lay down with Marcus. She was more looking for confirmation than actual answers but he also wonders if she did know before that moment or had she simply put two and two together once she saw him on her front step begging to see their son.

Rio doesn’t say anything to her though, he simply stands up instead and gently inches his t-shirt up. She seems to get what he’s doing because just as he’s lifting it past the first scar, Rhea’s on her feet and stepping closer to him.

“Spleen,” he says as he stops raising his t-shirt up. She reaches out to gently run a finger over the scar and he waits a moment before lifting it further to the next one. “Lung.” She blinks up at him and he can feel his chest restrict, the air coming slower, burning in a way that brings up painful memories so he clears his throat and tugs the t-shirt up. He slips his arm out and moves the material away from his- “Shoulder.”

Rhea pokes his chest gently, testing. “And you’re still alive, right?”

 _To your aim_. When he had said it, he hadn’t really been too sure himself what he had meant. Despite the pain that ripped through him when he woke up in the hospital, he had been thankful Elizabeth’s aim was so shitty, that he was still around to see another day. Only then, the pain had gotten worse before it got better. He couldn’t lift his arm above a certain height or rotate it too much, it still hurt like a bitch when he breathed (or did anything really), and well, there was a whole mess of complications.

That was all _before_ he ended up stuck in that damn hotel room with Turner constantly acting like he had the upper hand and then there was Rhea’s new friend at the park and then seeing Elizabeth for the first time since that night and just- Her aim was suddenly something to be less thankful about and all he could think about while sitting at the bar was the pain and how he really was going to have to kill her and how he wouldn’t have to think about any of it if her aim hadn’t been so shitty and suddenly, as he raised a toast, for split second he had wished he did die that night.

He shakes his head. “Yeah. Still alive.”

“I don’t know what I would have done if I had to tell Marcus.”

Her voice cracks a little near the end and there’s a glint in her eyes that he quickly realises are when she wipes them away. “How’d he take it? About Elizabeth.”

“He asked about Jane like we figured but he seemed to get that he couldn’t see her yet.” She breathes in deeply, exhales slowly. “He wanted to go with me today but I convinced him not to. I knew it would be hard enough to watch her get lowered into the ground and be around her family and friends and it _was_. I didn’t want to also worry about him slipping up and mentioning you.”

“Where is he now?”

“With a friend,” she tells him. “Maria? The one from college. It just didn’t feel right sending him off to school.”

And, yeah, he knows Maria. Knows that anyone who’s ever seen her and Rhea in a room together almost always mistakes them for sisters. Not because they look alike because they don’t, not really, but because the two of them are so in sync you’d think they’d known each other their whole lives. He also knows that their schedules don’t always match up and that slowly, over time, they saw a little less of each other. Probably why Rhea was so happy to get to know Elizabeth better.

“You know he only likes going to Maria’s because she gives him candy, right?”

She scoffs. “Are you kidding? I’ve got a giant tub of candy in the kitchen from the last couple of times he was with her. I keep telling her that he’s sorted for the next year at least but she won’t have any of it.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I guess we lucked out that he actually listens to us and doesn’t eat the whole lot before he brings it home.”

“I feel like Halloween last year still kind of freaks him out.”

And they shouldn’t laugh. It had been a pretty horrible night. Marcus had been so excited over all the new candies he got to try that he tried one of every kind he got and then another and then another and well, it had been fun. Even Rio, who didn’t care all that much about eating any of it, had some. Thing is, they’d maybe lost track a little and it wasn’t like Marcus was sick but between the sudden increase of sugar and being full on candy, it had created the kind of tummy ache that Marcus just wasn’t used to.

He’d point blank refused to eat anything sweet for almost the rest of the year and shit, Rio wasn’t about to complain but then Christmas had hit and Marcus’ appetite for sweet things shot back up again. Luckily, both Rio and Rhea managed to get him into some kind of habit and made sweet or rather, _overly sweet_ , things more of a rare and special treat and something that should be spaced out and-

It hits Rio like a ton of bricks how domestic this all feels. Even standing there with his shirt still half off, his scars on full display. Their co-parenting has always been a little jagged but they’ve always found a way to make it work and sure, Rhea has picked up the slack more than she should have to but sometimes they _fit,_ only, after what they’d just been talking about and after she finally saw what had happened to him, it doesn’t feel right.

“This whole thing is a mess,” she says quietly like she’s read his mind.

 _You don’t know the half of it,_ he thinks as he puts his t-shirt back on, noting the way Rhea’s eyes zone in on each scar as they disappear beneath the material. “I wish it wasn’t.”

She leans forward, her forehead pressed gently against his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”

And, yeah, he supposes they will.

* * *

It’s another location he recognises. The place is crowded but there’s little to no noise, probably because all Rio can focus on is making his way through the crowd. He sticks pretty close to the bar, following the line of it. He moves right past that dumbass husband of hers as he slips around towards the bathroom.

He grips the handle the moment he finds the door and his breath stutters at the memory of it. He tries to ready himself as he twists, opens the door, and quickly slips inside. His mind is racing, thinking back on that night and how it might possibly go down now. He pushes the door closed, keeping his eyes away from where he knows she stands and he takes a breath before he’s forced to look only- _She’s not there._

Stepping further into the room, he’s about to try and call out her name but a light flickers overheard and he swears he sees something in the mirror. He momentarily looks behind him but there’s nothing. Slowly, he takes another step forward and he sees it again. The closer he gets to the mirror, the clearer the image becomes. It’s him and Elizabeth. She’s in that polka dot dress and she’s against the sink with her skirt pulled up and it’s that night. He can see himself with that look of disbelief on his face and shit, he’d definitely felt it. All the teasing and the flirting and the games, he’d figured she’d never noticed and there was that little issue of her having gotten him arrested that threw a spanner in the works, not to mention turning down the keys to the kingdom. Walking into that bathroom, seeing her offer herself up like that, it was the last thing he’d ever expected.

As Rio stops at the sinks, watching the reflection of him and her, the lights flicker again. Now, the reflection moves. The events of that night play out. The way he had stepped closer to her and touched her where he could and kissed her neck. The way he’d leant down just enough to rip her panties off and how he’d pushed her forward to bend a little over the sink. The way he had felt how wet she was already, finding satisfaction in hearing her groan and grip the edge of the counter. He watches as he gets her worked up and it pains him.

He tears his eyes away from the mirror for a moment. He remembers what it had been like that night, everything that he had thought and felt but it’s different seeing his expressions. Seeing the way he had desperately wanted to be inside of her but more than that, how much he enjoyed watching her squirm and hearing all the little noises that came out of her. When Rio looks up at the mirror, he remembers thinking and feeling all of those things but seeing it play out is another thing altogether.

His mirror-self is pulling her up and then swiftly moving her around to the side, pressing her up against the wall. Even now it surprises him when _she_ reaches down to undo his jeans and the way she looks up at him through her lashes and just- He _aches_. In so many different ways that Rio just wants to wake up. He closes his eyes as his mirror-self leans down a little to grip her thighs and hoist her up against the wall.

The noises get louder then. Her moaning and that fucking towel dispenser. He even hears her breath, soft and a little laboured. He can still feel her. His skin prickles at the idea. Her skin against his lips, her hands occasionally gripping onto him, her legs around him, his cock deep inside-

He wakes up, breath heavy and hard as a rock. In an instant, he’s up. Stumbling against the dark and heaviness of sleep as he goes to the bathroom and practically throws himself into a cold shower.

By the time he gets out, he’s shivering. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before shuffling out into the rest of the apartment. It’s still there in his mind, the images of him and her in that bathroom. It had all been about scratching an itch, one that had taken hold of him when she gave her little speech to save her life and became persistent after she had left her pearls for him. He just wanted to taste her, to hear her, to feel her but he didn’t scratch the itch, he made it worse. He wanted _more_.

It was easy after that night at the bar to force her into a deal. To threaten to tell Dean which, he honestly wasn’t opposed to regardless of whatever else was going on but it was certainly a blessing in disguise, something he could use to his advantage once he realised she had kept quiet about their little bathroom break. And sure, squeezing a business deal out of them was great for business. Considering she didn’t want his money or the kingdom, she sure as shit came up with a plan pretty fucking fast. Rio knew he would be an idiot not to capitalise and steal that plan but he also couldn’t let go. He couldn’t stop thinking about their encounter at the bar or her. Without wanting to sound like a twelve-year boy with a crush, he wanted to make her pay attention. He wanted to push her buttons and draw her in closer and fuck it, he wanted to show off a little.

Dragging himself over to the kitchen, he rummages around until he finds one of the bottles he’d bought yesterday after leaving Rhea’s. Before all of this, he’d never been much of a drinker but really, he hadn't been a lot of things before this. It’s a lot smaller than the last bottle, he could probably get away with drinking straight out of it from the get-go but he still takes a glass.

He goes to the front door and unlocks it before moving over to the couch where he settles down. He nudges the glass onto the coffee table and then pours just a little bit into it, enough for a couple of shots. He downs that then fills the glass before picking it up and settling back onto the couch. Comfortable and just a little past caring anymore, he finds his phone and scrolls down to Rhea’s number.

“Is everything alright?”

He can hear Marcus talking away in the background. “You working today?”

“No, I booked it off because of yesterday,” Rhea tells him before she says something to Marcus, the words muffled before she’s back. “Why? What’s up?”

“Can you come over?”

“I need to take Marcus to school but I can come over right after.”

“The doors open.”

There’s a pause and he twitches a little, wants to hang up the phone already. He doesn’t want to back out of asking her this but he doesn’t want to sit there thinking about it either. Finally, she talks. “Are you going to be okay till I get there?”

“Who says I’m not okay?”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.”

As the line goes dead, he lets his phone fall onto the couch beside him. He nestles the bottle right beside him, between the couch cushions so he doesn’t have to constantly reach over to grab it and then he settles back, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

He sips somewhat slowly on his drink, not as slow as he should or could, but at least he’s not knocking back the contents every time he fills the glass up. ‘Cause he does keep filling it up, only letting the glass stay empty for as long as it takes him to un-wedge the bottle from beside him and pour. He just can’t think about facing Rhea completely sober, not with the things he has to say to her, and he also can’t allow himself to think anymore about that night in the bar bathroom or Elizabeth in general.

Not that he’s got any kind of fucking luck these days.

At some point, he loses track of time, knows realistically that not enough of it has passed, and he’s not that drunk. He could walk in a straight line… Kind of. And he could say the alphabet backwards if asked… Slowly, sure, but he _could_ do it. Thing is, he’s drunk enough it seems because there _she_ is.

His head is back against the couch, lulled to one side and he can’t move, doesn’t dare. She’s there on the couch beside him, sitting sideways so she can face him. Her head is tilted to one side, those blue eyes completely on him. Her brows are furrowed slightly and her mouth forms a small frown. He wants to kiss it away, wants to whisper her name, _Elizabeth_ , but he daren’t.

She lifts her hand up, stretches it out like she’s going to try to touch him only, his vision goes a little blurry. He blinks, tries to refocus on her. Her hand is getting closer and he holds his breath, waiting for her to touch him when she becomes distorted. He squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens them again, she’s gone. Instead, Rhea sits in her place.

 _“Jesus.”_ She lets out a breath, clearly relieved, and Rio frowns. “Are you okay?”

“I… What?”

“You were all zoned out,” she explains. “Just staring and then I saw the bottle. How much have you had?” He shrugs, can’t think to answer. His head is fuzzy and he’s too tempted to look around the apartment. Rhea sighs, tugging the glass and the bottle away from him to put on the coffee table. “You asked me to come over.”

It’s a gentle reminder and _right_. He racks his brain, trying to remember exactly what he wanted to tell her but his head is too full of Elizabeth and- “You were right.”

She sounds cautious when she speaks next. “Normally I would be thrilled at that admission but what exactly am I right about?”

“It is different.”

“Yeah?”

“She got under my skin.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Rhea shifts a little, leaning in a bit closer. “Ignoring how things ended up, think more in the grand scheme of things.”

“It don’t matter.”

“No?” she asks, her voice soft.

“She’s so deep under, I’m fucked either way.”

There’s that sympathetic smile again. The one that makes him want to curl away but it somehow looks sadder this time, _heartbroken_ even. “I wish I could do something.”

“I don’t.”

And he finds he means it. The point of telling her wasn’t to hope she could make it go away. Everything that’s happened so far has already proven to him that he’s not going to be able to forget any of this any time soon. It was more about needing to say it out loud for once.

Rhea sighs, settling down right beside him, putting her feet up on the coffee table next to his. “Do you think she felt the same?”

 _No_ , is what he wants to say but his gut tells him it’s the wrong answer. And ain’t that the fucking problem? Since that first nightmare, he hasn’t really been sure of anything and if he’s being honest with himself, it goes back slightly further to the moment he killed her. He thinks about how he couldn’t find peace until he was laying down with Marcus. Only then could he ground himself but it was all downhill from there.

“Tell me this then,” Rhea says when he doesn't answer. “What do you think your life would have been like if you never met her?”

He actually laughs at that. “Less drama.”

“Better, do you think?”

“Different.”

She hums like she agrees with him. “I thought about that a lot after that night. How not much would’ve been different for me. She helped a bit with Marcus but other than that… We drank wine, we took our kids to the park, we had lunch sometimes, I mean… There was nothing major about it and yet-”

“It was major.”

“Yeah.”

“It felt like time stopped when I kissed her,” Rio finds himself saying and he feels Rhea shift a little beside him. “We’d even slept together by that point but that kiss was...” He shakes his head. “It ain’t like she’s all that special, right?”

Rhea nods, barely letting out a soft, “right” in response.

“Probably ain’t gonna go down in history and she annoyed the fuck out of me sometimes but shit-” he huffs, an agitated sound “-I couldn’t for the life of me stop with her.”

“You did though.”

“If I’d waited a moment longer, she would’ve talked me out of killing her.”

“You said you couldn’t be talked out of it.”

“I said _you_ couldn’t talk me out of it.” He looks at Rhea just in time to see the moment her face falls. “Look, mama, I love you in a way that I’ve never loved anyone but the only person who could’ve stopped me that night was her.”

“So you didn’t give her the chance.”

“Couldn’t let her back in again.”

Rhea leans against him. “So what happens now?”

“Guess I gotta learn to live with it.”

He’s had a habit of picking himself back up plenty of times and he had his reasons for killing her and those reasons aren’t any less real just because he realises that he… _miscalculated._ And this whole thing isn’t over yet, it’s not just his ass on the line, but Mick’s. He can’t lose himself completely, he’s still got a job to finish if any of this is going to be worth it. 

It’s difficult though, especially when he’s still hung up on seeing Elizabeth sitting on the couch beside him, her hand reaching out to touch him.


	3. But if we don't die, that'll be interesting.

Rio blinks as his screen lights up with Gretchen’s name. It takes him far too long to remember that he had called her to look into things for him. It’s been hours since Rhea came over. She’d stuck around for a bit and urged him to get some sleep as she got ready to leave. He'd protested, mostly because he wasn't entirely sure what would happen once he finally closed his eyes. In the end, it didn’t matter. One minute he was on the couch, protesting the need for sleep and the next minute he was alone in his apartment, being awoken by the persistent buzzing of his phone.

He answers the call, wedging it between his ear and shoulder as he sits up. “Yeah?”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No-” He glances around his apartment to make sure it is empty, suddenly aware of the fact that lately it’s never really felt like he’s completely alone. “It’s a great time.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell you,” she admits. "And remember, I wasn't going to go digging too deeply in case it grabbed us too much attention."

"I remember."

“Good, now, I was worried at first when I looked into the friend.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It seems her husband was a cop and he’s been using his old contacts to try and get updates on the investigation.” She's got that tone she gets when she's thinking things over When she's trying to figure out a plan of action _in case_ something goes wrong. Unfortunately, Rio makes a noise of agreement a moment too late. Gretchen sighs and well, he hadn’t thought of telling her. To his credit, he had been on top of it. “You knew about him already?”

“I heard,” he supplies. “It wasn’t an issue.”

“Considering he’s no longer a cop and you’re not in prison, I guess I have to agree but does he know anything about his wife's involvement?”

"I couldn't tell you."

"Guess we just have to hope he loves her too much and won't risk getting her arrested."

Rio makes a non-committal sound, finding he doesn't much care if the husband talks or not. “That’s it for Ruby then?”

“Other than using his resources, neither of them seems to be up to much,” Gretchen supplies. “He works security at a gentlemen’s club and she’s working at a nail salon. The sister also switched jobs. She’s now a manager at a gas station close to where she lives.”

“I feel there’s a but coming on.”

“Not really, she’s in therapy but with everything that’s happened, that’s hardly surprising,” she says. “Now, I can’t tell you if the husband living with his mother is permanent or not but he’s definitely selling the house. It’s not on the market just yet but it should be going up in the next week or so.”

And there Rio is, sitting on his couch feeling all twisted up about a fucking house. _Again._ He knows it’s really about _her_ but that only makes it more frustrating. If the people in her life are making plans to move on, that’s a good thing.

“Should I be expecting a phone call from you any time soon?”

“I hope not.” He tries to soften his voice, to lighten the mood, even if only to remind himself to be hopeful. “Unless you are hinting that you want me to take you out.”

She scoffs. “With what you pay me, I could treat myself to somewhere nice. Which, with your track record lately, I might have to make the most of it and raise my fees.”

“I could always find someone else.”

“We both know you’re not that stupid.”

He chuckles because yeah, he’s not. At one point he even considered paying her more anyway just so that she would not only be on his retainer but maybe consider having him as her only client. That, however, felt more like he was just jinxing his business and his life. “At least eat somewhere nice.”

“Just for that,” she says and he can already hear the pettiness in her voice, “I think I’m going to order as much _cheap_ takeout as I can.”

Rio huffs but she’s already hanging up on him. He laughs a little to himself, pushing up off the couch to go in search of food and a warm shower and anything that’ll help to keep his mind clear for a bit. Things are getting so close to the end, he can practically feel the freedom that’ll come with it.

* * *

It’s her fucking dining room. He never thought such a bland room could be of major significance one time, let alone two. It ain’t even like her little speech was that impressive He had already considered a lot of what she’d said, killing three suburban housewives _would_ have brought in a lot of attention, and yet, he’d still chosen to let his boys trash her place and for Mick to put a gun to her head. No, it was more the _way_ she said it that had him pausing and then changing his mind for real. He remembers the tension in her body and the fear etched there under the surface even though she held her head high. Not to mention the way she looked him right in the eye as she urged him to pull the trigger and fuck, how could he _not_ be interested after that?

Flash forward and he never really expected to be back in that same fucking room again, only this time letting _her_ hold the gun. Now, sitting on that same chair, he considers that maybe he handed her a gun one too many times. Not that he would change that specific night in her dining room. He knew with absolute confidence she wouldn’t shoot him. If she was capable of that then she wouldn’t have bothered trying to get him arrested. Whether it be her lack of ability or her morals, she was never going to fire the gun and well, it had been all the more satisfying to take it back from her and shoot Dean instead.

Glancing to his side, he half expects Dean to appear but it’s hardly a surprise that he doesn’t when lately, it’s just been himself and Elizabeth. The only other time was Turner for a brief moment but Rio had been stuck on that too. Still frustrated by the blackmail, the hotel stay, and just Turner’s smug face in general. Now though, all he can think about — _torture_ himself over — is Elizabeth.

He practically senses the change in the room as he looks across the dining table to find Elizabeth standing there like she had that night. He’s not bruised or bloodied like he had been but he does feel the ache of it and there’s that metallic taste. He stands without waiting for her to talk. He moves towards her just like he had before because the gun is in her hand and she’s shaking and she’s taking a step back. It’s painfully familiar and it hits him about a second too late that Dean isn’t there to be shot.

The gun fires.

A deafening blow that stops Rio in his tracks a few steps away from her. He hasn’t had the chance to touch her or coax the gun away or- He’s _fine_ . His eyes dart down, his hands frantically pressing over his body in search of the wound but there’s nothing there. _Lung, spleen, shoulder,_ all still scars.

When his eyes snap up to hers, time speeds up. She’s looking at him the same way she had done that night he killed her. Her hands are at her stomach, pressing as hard as she can but he can see the blood already. His hand twitches against metal and he looks down to find gold glinting back up at him.

The gun is let go.

He darts forward.

She falls to the floor.

Shooting forward in bed, Rio reaches out as if to catch her but he comes up empty. His eyes whip around the room, seeking out the flashes of blonde or the hint of her voice but there’s nothing. 

He does his best to try and calm his breathing while his eyes adjust a little better. The subtle light coming in through the gaps in the curtains helps to illuminate certain areas of the room. The silence around him is deafening and he wants so desperately to rip through it. It’s only when his name is said across the air, as faint as a whisper, that Rio settles back onto his bed and then, once he sees that flash of blonde he rolls onto his side, facing away from where he saw it. Gently and quietly, he asks her to stay for a bit.

As he lets his eyes close, he swears he feels the bed dip.

* * *

Rio tries not to think about it too much the next morning. It was right after a nightmare and he was delirious from sleep, _that_ was the reason why it felt like his bed had dipped. He had imagined it. He just needs something more to focus on so his brain has no chance to drift that far into the impossible.

It’s how he finds himself set up at the dining table with his laptop to one side and a notepad to the other. It’s not the first time he had thought about getting back into work in some way and busying himself and well, as he showered, he figured now is as good a time as any. Plus, with Mick taking a big risk pretending to be in charge, the least he could do is actually play his part in all of it, no matter how small it might be right now.

He works for some hours, going back over the various updates Mick has been sending him since he took things over. Using what he has, Rio tries to figure out some ideas as to what they could do next once everything is back to normal and how to push ahead with all the problems that were created when he and Elizabeth came to blows. He ignores every urge to go and lay down on the couch and do nothing all day. He works through it all until it begins to feel like he's running around in circles and at that point, he gathers everything up and uses the need to update Mick as an excuse to get out of his place for a bit.

He doesn't send off a warning text, simply throws on some decent clothing and drives straight over there. If Mick's not at the bar, the back office should be empty and even being in there alone will still be a slight change of scenery. By the time he actually gets to the bar, it's not that busy but still, Rio slips around the back, wanting to avoid anyone and everyone.

He doesn’t bother to knock on the office door. Instead, he simply opens it and leans into the room a little. “You busy?”

Mick looks up from where he’s sat at the desk, surprise flashing across his face for the briefest of moments before he shakes his head, motioning for him to come inside. “Just checking the numbers for this place.”

“I know I’ve been slacking,” Rio says, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him. Mick shakes his head again, this time waving him off as Rio settles into the seat across from him. “So, things are good?”

“It’s all still a work in progress,” he admits, straightening up and abandoning the paperwork in front of him. “No one’s coming for our lives or anything just yet but we’re cutting it kind of close.”

“As soon as they get Elizabeth’s killer, they’ll move towards wrapping everything up and we can really get things moving which, speaking of, I got some ideas.”

“You sure you’re ready to get back into this?”

Rio huffs, slouching in his seat. “Why?”

“‘Cause there’s a reason I’ve been dealing with this alone,” Mick says. “If you want to take more time…”

“No.” He clears his throat. “I don’t need more time.”

There’s a silence that falls over them before Mick eventually makes a noise, nods his head slightly. Rio can see the mask slipping back into play, watching as Mick goes from concerned friend to loyal right-hand man. He wants to thank him, acknowledge his offer to step back and maybe be a little honest with him in return, but opening up to Rhea was a lot and far too recent so Rio just lets conversation remain about work. 

Unfortunately, it’s not for very long. Mick’s got a pretty good handle on things, which Rio really isn’t all that surprised by. He had been a little hopeful though, wanting there to be something that would urgently need his attention. Only, Mick had been right, while they were cutting it pretty fine, his handling of their repayments was keeping them somewhat safe for now. On top of that, he was managing the intel about Elizabeth’s investigation and keeping on top of the bar as well as their other assets. Fuck, if it was anyone else, Rio would be worried about a possible take-over but he knows Mick isn’t like that, doesn’t want the hassle for any longer than he has to have it.

After that, it was more of a case of figuring out what they were going to do next. Funny money won’t be an issue if they can find a different printing system and a way to wash it, the latter of which wouldn’t be completely impossible. The drugs are a little harder. The dealers they worked with all have new connections now but it’s not exactly going to be hard to find new ones, their biggest problem is the suppliers. Suppliers who aren’t going to risk their product again nor the possibility that the system could just break down at a moment’s notice like it already has before. It had been a lot of leg work to get the suppliers they had and this time around, Rio figures he might not be able to be so picky. 

It’s a headache. There are other kinds of drugs, _maybe_ guns, and hell, Rio’s never given much thought to dealing in things like stolen art but he can hardly cross it off the list right now, even if there is a lot more risk involved. He’s trying to be more open to possibilities, figures he’s bound to work in cash or drugs again and that he’ll be able to use the fact that he owes his old connections as a way to slip into it again and earn back their trust. Probably by owing them a fuck ton more of his profits.

Still, it all feels like running around in circles because there’s not too much that can be done right now. It's not even just that Mick seems to be on top of everything but that, with very little to go over, Rio can't ignore the fact that it's too hard to concentrate. They've barely done anything and he’s already leaning back in his seat, slouching down so low he might as well be completely horizontal.

“So, you don’t want to talk about it, huh?”

Rio’s eyes snap up to Mick who has also settled back from the desk, although he's managed to stay a lot more upright. “We don’t talk about this. We do it and we move on or we go out to drink for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Mick agrees. “But this time you’ve been drinking all on your own and you ain’t done that for a long time.”

“Ain’t nothing.”

“It’s been something for a long time. Since you told me _not_ to shoot her in the head, since you let her go to Canada, since you dumped Eddie on her kid’s bed, since you gave her money washing scheme a chance…” He rolls his hand. “You get the point. Right from the beginning, it’s always been something.”

Rio grumbles, momentarily knocking his head back to glance at the ceiling. “Starting to notice how you all like to comment on how I do shit.”

“Only with her.”

“Well, we ain’t gotta worry about that now.”

“Don’t we?”

He wants to reassure Mick that they don’t because it’s over. She’s dead. He can’t give her any more second chances or find excuses to work with her again or anything else. He can’t do any of it and therefore, it’s over, only, it’s _not_. Not when he’s dreaming about her and thinking about her and drinking a lot more than he normally would. It’s tempting to tell Mick everything. They’re close enough for that, enough that it won’t be completely weird or cross any kind of line they have but it also feels like the final nail in the coffin, the thing that’ll make everything that’s happened since she died, feel all too real.

“Just been feeling a little stir-crazy waiting for this shit to be over so I can get back to work properly.”

Mick just stares at him for a beat, his face impassive but then, regardless of whether or not he believes it, he nods once. “It’ll be done soon, _boss.”_

At that, Rio shakes his head, a small, slightly breathy laughing coming out as he straightens up. They lull into silence and share a drink (which, he notices, Mick keeps within low moderation), occasionally dipping back into conversation about work and how the bar has been doing.

* * *

Rio’s about to enter his apartment building when his phone rings. At the sight of Rhea’s name, he pauses momentarily before stepping inside of the building. He hangs around by the elevator, out of sight from the main entrance as he answers the call.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she says softly, the word too stretched out for how small it is and he knows she’s considering something. He doesn’t say anything, simply waits her out and eventually, she sighs. “I was worried.”

He hums. “Right, right, checking up on me.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“It’s fine.” He’s almost tempted to joke that Mick had already beaten her to it but he has a feeling that won’t make her feel any less worried. “I’m fine.”

“Last I checked, you don’t drink much.”

“I didn’t drink that much when you came over either.”

There’s a pause, a period where all that can be heard is Rhea’s soft breathing and he almost speaks again but she beats him to it. “We’re really not going to talk about it?”

There it is, his opening, his chance to tell her about the things he’s seen and heard since Elizabeth died — since he _killed_ her — but he figures that somehow, it probably won’t help things. Besides, like with Mick, it felt too much like the final nail in the coffin, more so because it’s Rhea and she’s been there a lot lately. It’s not like it’ll relieve him of anything and at least this way he’s the only one suffering. And maybe, _maybe_ , a small part of him is terrified that if he speaks up, he’ll go back to dreamless nights and he’ll miss it — miss _her_ — again.

“We don’t need to,” he says gently. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’m going to pretend like I believe you,” Rhea says. “For now.”

They fall into lighter conversation. Mostly about Marcus, a little about her day-to-day. It’s nice. Grounds him a little more. He finds himself leaning against the nearest wall as listens to her talk. He begins to wonder if it’ll continue. If they’ll talk like this and keep up with each other. He doesn’t linger on it though, instead, he focuses on their current conversation and tries to remain present until eventually, they have to say their goodbyes.

* * *

It’s technically the most jumbled dream he’s had since they started. At first, as he sits on the bench at the park and looks over to see Elizabeth sitting on the next bench over, his heart plummets. After seeing her and hearing her, being this far away feels even more torturous but there’s something — a _feeling_ — that has him standing up and moving towards her, regardless of the possible let down. With each step, he holds his breath and continues to do so even as he sits down beside her.

He takes a moment and turns to face her, slowly releasing the breath he’s been holding when he finds her still sitting beside him. It makes him feel good to have her so close and while she’s not looking at him or saying anything, it’s different, it’s _better._

When he opens his mouth to whisper something to her, everything changes in the blink of an eye. 

A quick look around tells him they’re on the picnic bench in her backyard. It takes him a second longer than it should to realise that she’s talking and he can hear her. Well, sort of. It’s a little distorted at first and when it clears, he realises she’s simply repeating what they had talked about the last time they were in that spot, when she told him all about Dean being tied up with her panties in his mouth, a thought that makes him chuckle but if she hears, she doesn’t react. Even though he remembers her words, he listens to her talk, not needing to supply any responses because she keeps going anyway as if she’s already heard them. It’s nice, Rio finds, to just listen to her and actually see that it’s her but then, as their original conversation starts to wind itself down, her voice becomes more distorted again.

As she turns to look at him, he blinks. Suddenly, with a wave of disappointment, he’s awake.

Only- It’s contentment that takes over as the heaviness of sleep fades away. _Happiness_ , even. There’s something completely different about hearing her talk while he can see her sitting beside him rather than hearing whispers around his apartment. And even though it’s happened before in his dreams, there’s something entirely different about sitting close to her now that he’s seen flashes of her around his apartment.

He’s not sure if it’s a sign that things are getting better or worse but he finds, laying in bed, that he doesn’t much care either way.

* * *

Rhea knows something is up the second she opens the front door to let him in but he’s quickly able to sidestep her as Marcus comes in, calling his name. It’s not like he can avoid it forever, her raised brow and tight smile is enough to tell him that she won’t drop his sudden upbeat demeanour but he can at least put that off and enjoy his good mood for a bit longer.

It’s better than he expected. Running around and kicking the ball outside, only stopping to drink some water and snack on some fruit that Rhea cut up. He dropped a couple of hints about the things he bought to spruce up a particular bedroom and Marcus practically beamed at him, wanting to know when he can come back over and see his new room. Rio promised a “soon” and that they’d have to talk it over with mom and Marcus was still pleased by the end of it.

Rio’s mood only proceeded to get better and better over the hours that they spent together and he didn’t want to even think about leaving. Luckily, by the time it got to that point, he wasn't sure anything could break his good mood. He was so confident that when Marcus goes running off to play in his room, Rio steps into the kitchen where Rhea is preparing dinner, ready for any questions or comments she might throw his way.

“I told you yesterday that I was fine,” he points out when she keeps glancing his way.

She turns properly from where she's stirring a pot on the stove and gives him a look of disbelief. “And I remember the state you were in when I showed up to your apartment. I remember the things we talked about.”

“I must’ve needed to get it out of my system.”

“Is this what it’s going to be like?” she asks, turning back to focus on the pot. “One minute you’re drinking and _obviously_ fucked up over everything that's happened and the next you’re upbeat?”

“It’s not…” Rio takes a moment, moving over till he’s beside her and he leans back against the counter. “I’m trying not to come around when I’m like that.”

“Like what?” she prods.

He rolls his eyes a little, letting his head fall back. “Fucked up over it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to come around at all when you’re like that, I just want you to be honest with yourself.”

“I am honest.”

“More honest.”

He lets out a slow breath. Watches her while she isn’t watching him and just- “I’m trying.”

“I would ask you what's got you in such a good mood, it must be something pretty big to make this change, but I don’t want to ruin it.”

It’s sudden, the way his chest tightens initially but then eases up as she talks. Despite previous temptations to tell her everything he’s experienced so far, she’s right, it probably would ruin it. Not in a way that would be her fault. She’d be worried, most likely tell him he needs to seek some actual help. She will point out all the things wrong with what he’s experienced, all the things he’s aware of but is too far past the point of caring or rather, being able to fully do anything about. It’s the new normal. To see Elizabeth, to hear her. Whether he's awake or sleeping. _She_ is his new normal and while it might be in a way he never expected, it’s happening, and he can’t bring himself to break it.

“Mama, I promise you, it’s all gonna be good.” He briefly lets the back of his hand gently brush her side, her hip. “I’m figuring it out.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His phone buzzes then and he slips away from the counter as he digs it out of his pocket to see Mick’s name. It’s tempting to ignore it for now so he can leave Rhea’s on the highest note possible but the thought of having something crash his mood later, a something that maybe could’ve been dealt with sooner, sobers him up enough to answer the call.

“Hey,” he says, moving into the living room. He stands far enough away from the archway by the kitchen and angles himself to focus on the smaller archway, the one Marcus is more likely to pass by. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” There’s the bustle of traffic in the background. “They’re picking him up. Shouldn’t be too long before things start to wrap up.”

He exhales slowly. “It’s nearly over.”

“I hope so,” Mick says, at the same time Rhea asks, “what’s nearly over?”

Rio’s head whips around. She drying her hands on a towel and watching him carefully. He was pretty sure it was Marcus eavesdropping that he'd have to worry about, not Rhea.

“Everything good, boss?”

He shakes his head to clear it as he turns away from Rhea a little. “You’re right, we can’t be too sure. You still good to stick on this?”

“Niall’s keeping me updated,” Mick tells him. “I’m ready to move no matter what he’s got to tell me.”

“I’ve gotta deal with something.”

“I’ll only call if it’s an emergency.”

As Rio hangs up the phone, he twists back around to see Rhea still standing there, watching him expectantly. He buries the phone into his pocket, thinking of what excuse he might be able to come up with. For now, he goes with a half-truth.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the investigation.”

Rhea gawks at him. _“Her_ investigation?”

He shrugs, tries to keep his face impassive. “I had to be sure I was good.”

The surprise starts to ease itself away. “And?”

“They’ve got nothing.”

She nods slowly. “And that’s why it’s almost over?”

It feels like a trap. Probably is. “Yeah.”

“So either, you're stupid or I am.”

Definitely a trap. “How so?”

“Because if that’s the truth then I’m stupid for thinking her family wouldn’t give up on finding out who killed her.” She motions to him. “Or you’re stupid for thinking this will be over just because they can’t find any evidence that you or-” She narrows her eyes at him, her jaw a little slack. “They’re going to find something.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says as he moves towards the smaller archway, intent on going to find Marcus so he can say goodbye.

“Tell me the truth, why did you leave her body out there?”

He pauses, slowly turning around to face her. “I already told you.”

“You said it was so they couldn’t point the finger at you. That it was worth the risk of getting caught because it was different.” She takes a breath. “But recently, what we’ve talked about, I _know_ you didn’t fully believe it was different until now. I get that whatever made her special, it probably influenced your decision to let them find her body, but I also know you too well and I just… I couldn’t see it.”

Quick as anything, he stalks towards her, his heart pounding in his chest. The days all mixed in his head. The memories of what he has and hasn’t said out loud to her blurring in his mind. She’s _right_. He’s been all over the place. Admitting things here and there but not always believing them, not with the same kind of conviction he has now, the conviction that tells him that he might actually have been wrong that night. Wrong about a lot of things, at a lot of different times.

“Couldn’t see what?” he asks, voice low as he stops with barely an inch between them.

“That you let her be found because you knew it would never point to you because… Because it’s going to point to someone else.”

A beat passes. He considers lying some more, opting for something else but he’s growing tired and his good mood has practically evaporated at this point and so… “It was for the best. I let her be found because it was different but I saw an opportunity to take someone out, to teach them a lesson.”

“For all the wrong she did, she deserved better than for her death to be used like that.”

“I know that now but it’s happening, okay? You’re right, her family ain’t gonna give up if no one is caught. Someone has to be, it was the price to avoid...” _Throwing her away._

Rhea sighs, the tension in her body dissolving. “Do you think it would have been easier if you realised you lov-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “I didn’t.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What? That I didn’t feel that way?”

“That even now you can’t admit that you did. That you still do.”

He’s breathless. It's like all the air has been sucked out of him because _no_ , she’s wrong. With Elizabeth it was… Admiration, _lust_ . It was never anything more. There was something between them for sure. Something inside of him that bloomed over time, that strengthened in those pinnacle moments with her, that threatened to burst so brightly that day in her bedroom but it wasn’t _that_. He would know. He wouldn’t have done… He couldn’t have if…

“I need to go.”

“I can tell him.”

Rio shakes his head

He turns away from her then. He calls Marcus’s name and tries to remember how to let air into his lungs as he waits. There’s a burning, one that reminds him all too much of that night and in the hospital and all the healing afterwards. Panic rises in him even more until he’s sure he might suffocate and it’s close, closer than he’s ever felt before, but then Marcus comes bounding up to him and suddenly — _finally_ — he can breathe again.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“I can’t,” Rio says, scooping Marcus up in one motion to hold him to his chest. “I gotta go.”

Marcus pouts. “Will my room really be done by the time I come over next?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits, the thought of doing anything feels too draining to him right now. “But I've got it started so you’ll still get to see some things.”

At that, Marcus beams, his pout long forgotten. “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

He holds Marcus close to his chest, concentrating on not squeezing too tightly as they hug. It’s only when he starts to fidget that Rio finally lets him go, slowly setting him down. He grins again, darting off shouting goodbyes with a “love you” thrown in the middle. There’s that tightening in Rio’s chest again but he gives all the appropriate responses and smiles until Marcus is completely out of sight.

When Rio leaves, he barely looks over at Rhea. Everything is too much like an echo and he's not even sure he remembers getting home.

It’s safe to say he doesn’t sleep well that night.

Another montage of sorts. A mismatch of the nightmares he’s had before, the ones that centred around the night he was shot, the night he killed Elizabeth, and the day he shot Dean with the added switch up of her getting shot instead. It jumps back and forth between them. Sometimes so quickly that Rio barely has the chance to prepare himself for which one might come next nor is he able to properly catch his breath. It’s a never-ending sucker-punch.

In a way, it fits his dampening mood. Once he got home, he was barely able to keep himself upbeat enough before he gave up and dragged himself to bed much earlier than he would normally and crawled under his covers to bury his face amongst his pillows. It makes sense that his sleep has taken on nightmares again and that it’s coming so violently and out of order that it makes his head spin and the dark feeling in his chest and head to get worse.

There’s a moment, a time in which he knows he’s close to waking up, where the nightmare becomes faded around the edges, less saturated, but not any less impactful. A moment where everything slows down. At first, he’s standing there in his loft and he’s being shot three times. The bullets hit, there’s a pause, they burn. He begins to fall only then, he’s upright. He’s in her dining room. His gun is cold against his warm palm and then _she’s_ the one falling and he tries to reach for her but he can’t get to her quick enough and she’s going to hit the floor but then, he _is_ holding her and she’s dying in his arms.

When he wakes, it’s not with the relief he thought he’d feel that night he killed her but instead with a pain he can’t quite describe and guilt that even on his best day, he couldn’t deny. He’s so drained. His body feels heavy but his mind races too much to let him go back to sleep. Not that he even wants to right now.

It’s barely past midnight when he glances at the clock on his bedside table. He pushes up anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s like there’s eyes on him from somewhere in the shadows of his room but he doesn’t look their way. Instead, he tilts his head down towards the ground, scratching at the back of his neck before he’s up and walking across the room.

The eyes follow him as he makes his way to the bathroom. He’s sure if he were to look, he’d see them, big and blue. See the blonde hair, pale skin. He ignores all of it. Bites his tongue, keeps a firm focus on _not_ letting his mind drift. He seeks relief in a cold shower, hoping it’ll wake him up a little and help him shake what he’s feeling.

He stays in there far longer than he normally would. The eyes aren’t there anymore and the sound of the water running drowns out any chances that he might hear her voice. While it’s tempting to listen out, he can’t. He's not so sure he could handle it.

When Rio steps out of the shower, there’s more brief relief as he dries off and pulls on a pair of boxers but that gaze is back on him again as soon as he steps out into the rest of the apartment. It’s harder to keep his own gaze away, those flashes of blonde hitting the corners of his eye now but he pushes on into the kitchen where he sets about making himself a cup of coffee and grabbing whatever food he can find from the fridge. It’s nothing he has to cook and while he eats and drinks, he stands, hoping it’ll all make him a little more alert.

There’s no real attention to what he’s eating. He just picks, puts it into his mouth, chews, and then swallows. It’s all practically tasteless anyway and the coffee doesn’t have the desired effect either. He’s yawning again and he knows sleep is close. To draw it out or rather, to make the inevitability of sleep less painful, he grabs a vodka bottle and tops up his coffee with it. Although it’s tempting, when he moves over the couch, he leaves the bottle behind to sit on the counter beside all the food he’d dragged out of the fridge.

He drops onto the middle of the couch, his coffee-vodka sloshing against the edge of the cup and spilling over the edge of the little. The force has wedged him slightly between the couch cushions but he just settles, lets out a slow exhale.

The eyes are still on him and her voice is like a whisper in the air but he keeps his eyes focused forward. He only moves to sip at his drink.

Time passes.

He’s not sure how long.

Enough that he finishes his coffee and slumps further into the couch and eventually, thanks to the bone-deep exhaustion that he can't quite counteract, he falls asleep.

He’s never seen a corridor so white and bright before. Not even in the hospital. It’s impossibly long but that’s not really what he’s focusing on. It’s her. _Elizabeth_. She’s only a few steps from him and she’s looking back at him over her shoulder. There's a motion of her hand. He realises, suddenly, that she wants him to follow her.

So he does.

Rio's legs feel heavy and he moves a lot slower than he would normally but he walks anyway. She keeps looking back at him over her shoulder, a momentary look of relief when her eyes find his and she always looks away from him with a small smile on her face. A smile that lights him up completely. There’s nothing particularly grand about it but it’s genuine and it slowly chips away at his exhaustion.

As they continue down the corridor, it remains long and empty and seemingly never-ending but still, it does change. The lights aren't so harsh, instead, they’re warmer in tone, casting a subtle colour across the space that turns it from white to more of a pale cream. These changes help to break down his exhaustion even further and help to bring about a sense of relief.

Suddenly, a little ahead of him, Beth stops completely and turns to face him. He keeps moving towards her, his eyes getting a real chance to take her in. She looks just like she did the night he killed her, specifically how she had looked at the bar. There’s no sign of what he did to her and for a fleeting moment, it's almost like it never happened.

He’s nearly reached her, only a few more steps and he can finally hold her again. He reaches out his hand towards her, wanting to touch her, but all that greets him is his apartment.

There’s a brief second, where he feels suspended in time while his mind catches up on the fact that he's awake but when it does, that urge to follow her snaps inside of him. He remembers her face and the way she had _wanted_ him to follow her. What was the point if he couldn’t reach her properly? And it’s still there, like something guiding him, pushing and pulling him in the right direction.

Rio doesn’t think to waste much time. He moves quickly to his bedroom where he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt he left on the floor by his bed. He tugs on some sneakers he doesn’t have to unlace before tugging on a hoodie, zipping it up just enough to keep it tight around him. He snaps up his keys and he’s gone. Leaves his phone, his wallet, his gun.

He’s vaguely aware of locking up and climbing into his car and just driving. The logical part of him figures that she’s not actually there even though it feels like she’s guiding him and he can’t do anything but follow her. Only- After all the things he’s seen and heard since that night, couldn’t it be possible that it really is her guiding him now? 

All around him, he hears her voice and then she’s singing. It’s not entirely clear and he can’t seem to concentrate on the specific words so he jabs at the radio, jazz music flooding the car but then her voice seems to take over that too and her singing is so much louder that he shuts the radio off, her lullaby falling into a whisper.

It sits around him like a barrier and soaks into him in a much gentler way than he expects. The comfort it radiates throughout him makes him feel like he’s floating and it’s almost like he’s in no control as he drives through Detroit. It’s so encompassing that when he finally stops the car, it takes him several minutes to realise that he’s outside her house.

 _It’s just a building,_ he reminds himself as he takes a deep breath.

He has the good sense to drive a little further and park away from her house just in case but the second he’s out, he barely pauses to lock up before he’s moving again. Stumbling towards her house, he's thankful that he can move more efficiently than he had in his dream. He has to go inside — _needs to_ — and he knows the urgency won’t go away until he does and he thinks, maybe, that this is how he’s supposed to confront everything. To be in her space, surrounded by her things, forced to remember every little detail of who they were, who _she_ was. Maybe then he can be honest and maybe _then_ , he really can move forward.

He goes in through the door at her kitchen. It’s dark. From what he can see, a lot of the intimate details are gone. The pictures, the drawings, the little bits of furniture that made it more lived in. There are still things dotted around but not many, it’s mostly the bigger furniture and pieces that mustn’t be that sentimental that have been left behind. He makes his way through the space, noticing the same throughout but he doesn’t stop to investigate. His attention is entirely on her bedroom, it’s almost like a beacon.

When he reaches the door, it’s stronger. That calling, that _urge_ to keep moving forward, to come here. He pauses outside, brings his hand up to press against the door like he might knock which it’s stupid because no one is here but also, when had he _ever_ knocked on a door when it came to her? He laughs a little to himself. He can imagine the way her nose would scrunch up or her brow would furrow as her eyes narrowed at him. It would piss her off to no end (or scare the shit out of her) when he popped up out of nowhere and fuck, if it hadn’t become too tempting after that. He could never stop.

This time feels different though, more of an invasion than anything else. He begins to wonder how different it’ll look on the other side. Were all of her things gone? Or maybe it was the exact same, not yet touched. The last room to be packed up.

The calling he feels is too strong, tugging at him all over. He has no choice but to reach for the door handle. His heart is thundering against his chest as he grips it and slowly turns. It’s not as dark as he thought it might be on the other side, he wonders if the curtains at the french door are open. From his spot just outside the room, he can see that the dresser that was once topped with photos — _too many_ _photos_ , if you ask him — is now bare. The mirror above it is also gone. It doesn’t look or feel right.

With a deep breath, he steps into the room. The calling is no longer there but that gaze is on him again, this time much more intense than he’s felt before. It’s too real, too striking. He’s not sure his heart can beat any faster as he turns to his left to take in the room but it _does_ beat faster and his breath lodges and he’s all too aware that he’s panicking. Aware of it as his chest tightens and his fingers claw at his legs and his eyes start to water and-

“You miss me?”

_“Elizabeth.”_

It comes out of him like a whisper, a breath that gets lost to the air, and all he can do is stare at her, track the subtle nod she gives him in response. The more he looks at her, the more he panics. She’s sat on her bed on the side furthest from him. Her back is against the headboard and she's hugging a pillow to her chest. She looks exactly like she had the night she died. Exactly the same as when he had slipped onto the barstool beside her, minus the panic in her eyes.

_“Breathe.”_

His eyes snap to hers at the sound of her voice. It takes a moment for him to realise what she’s said and then there’s a burning feeling and more panic. He digs his nails into the palms of his hands and forces some air into his lungs, ignoring the pain as he exhales slowly.

She taps the pillow with her fingers. _Nervous_ , he realises and surprisingly enough, it helps. He wants so much for her worry lines to go away so he breathes in, forces himself to hold it, and then exhales. He does it all slowly, bathing in the fact that the tightness in his chest is lessening and relief begins to flood her face.

“You’re here,” he manages to get out.

Her eyes leave his, looking over to the french doors instead. The curtains are open enough to let some light in and allow her to look out from her spot on the bed. He steps further into the room, right up to the bed, remaining on the opposite side of where she sits.

When she doesn't say anything, he asks, “how?”

“I have no idea.” She turns back and studies him a moment. “You look like you do though.”

He huffs, settling down onto the bed with his back to her. The thundering of his heart isn’t as severe now. Fast, sure, but getting more manageable by the second. “I’ve finally lost my mind.”

“The very second you walked in here and saw me?”

“No, for a while now,” he admits. “Seeing you here is a result of it I guess.”

“So that makes me, what? A figment of your imagination? A hallucination?” _Hallucination_ . That could be it, he supposes. It would fit with hearing her voice and seeing her around his apartment. _“Rio.”_

He twists so he can look back at her. He thinks about hearing his name around his apartment but now, hearing it from her loud and crisp, it twists him up in a shockingly good way. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m in your head.”

“What are you then? Alive?”

She looks down at herself, her face falling in a way that tells him she'd hoped the same thing at some point. “No, but-”

He sighs, turning away from her again. “Exactly.”

His whole body stiffens as something soft smacks against his back. He looks to see the pillow on the bed between them, her hands still gripping one end of it. _She hit him_.

“Rio, I’m scared.” His eyes snap up to hers. That’s… She’s… “I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t _want_ to be here. I want to go home.”

“You are home,” he tells her softly.

“No,” she snaps and he immediately gets it. Home. Her kids. “I’m not.”

“He’s selling the house.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” she says, eyes downcast. “Are they… Have you…” She swallows. “Have you seen them?”

Rio shakes his head. “I haven’t. It was too risky.”

She narrows her eyes slightly at him. “But someone has?”

“I had my lawyer look into things,” he tells her, shifting so he can sit on the bed a little better and face her properly. “That’s how I know he’s selling the house. How I know Annie is seeing a therapist and that Ruby’s husband has been trying to get information on your case.”

She gives him a look that’s soft and curious but there’s a little bit more that he can’t quite decipher. “And my kids?”

“Rhea went to your funeral.”

“Oh,” she says, voice breaking around the word. “She went?”

“From what she said, it sounds like they’re all still broken up about it which ain’t surprising but it didn’t sound too awful.” He watches her carefully, an ache growing inside of him. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

Her voice is surprisingly gentle. He expected… Anger, frustration. She has to be a part of him, it's the only thing that makes sense, so she should be yelling at him because that’s exactly how he envisions her. If she had survived like he did, he would expect to have to hide for his life and prepare to counter-attack. Fuck, it would be neverending with them.

“Ain’t you furious?”

“I’m tired,” she tells him, shifting her position so she’s sat crossed-legged and a little more upright, a little more poised. “And I told you, I’m scared.”

His heart rate picks up again, this time a little different. It's not so scary. He wants to reach for her, to reassure her, but he’s not sure he can. Not sure if it’ll be enough or that it'll matter. Still, he inhales deeply. “I _am_ sorry. I didn’t think I would be. Killing you was par for the course after everything went to shit.”

“So was me shooting you.”

He actually laughs at that, a breathless little thing, but still, a laugh. Maybe he has lost his mind because he finds himself nodding. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

She smiles at him and it strikes Rio deep at his core. “You really must believe I’m not really here.”

She isn't wrong. It certainly is a little easier to even consider admitting these things knowing that it's not really her. It’s terrifying though. Those three bullets fueled his anger and were the primary reason why he went to the bar and put a bullet in her. If he admits she was justified, even if only a little, that it was bound to go down the way it had in his apartment, then he killed her for nothing.

And, in the end, does it matter whether he was right or wrong? Justified or not? The grief and guilt are piling up so much that he knows that _now_ he regrets it, now he really is sorry that he ever pulled the trigger. Would it have been easy between them if she lived? No. He probably would’ve kept her at arm's length and shit, based on recent goings-on, it would’ve been torturous and near-impossible, but he would’ve tried to stay the hell away from her.

“How is she?”

Rio blinks as he’s dragged from his thoughts. “Who?”

“Rhea.”

“She’s... Grieving.”

Her voice is quiet. “Yeah?”

He smiles softly. “You think she wouldn’t?”

“How much does she know?”

“She knows enough. I didn’t go into too many specifics but she knows you shot me and that I killed you. She’s angry that you lied to her but she’s sad that you’re gone.”

“I was only trying to help.”

There’s the slightest flare in him. One he can’t help because it’s his son and his… Well, it’s his family. Maybe a little broken at times, sure, but it’s his and Elizabeth swooped in when she thought he was dead, after she thought she killed him. He takes a breath. He buries down that flaring anger because it’s different now. It’s done. He handled her and clearly _that_ was the wrong decision so he’s got to drop the fact she went around Marcus and Rhea if he ever stands a chance of moving forward.

“I noticed she was around a lot since… _You know_.”

Of course she knows, being in his head and all, but it still strikes him. The matter-of-fact tone of her voice and yeah, he supposes Rhea has been around a lot. “Other than Mick, there’s no one I could talk to.”

“You talked about it? About me? About _us?”_

He eyes her carefully at all the questions and shit, maybe this could be like therapy or going to confession. He’ll spew everything he’s feeling, all the stuff he’s kept locked up and been determined not to admit. He’s just admitting it to himself and that’s a start, isn’t it? Nothing too big.

“She thinks I love you.”

 _“Love?_ Present tense?” she asks but from the sound of her voice, it seems like she doesn’t believe he could ever love her in any tense which, yeah, he’s not entirely sure what he felt — _feels_ — towards her.

“I ain’t saying she’s right,” he says quickly, _too_ quickly. 

“But you brought it up,” she points out. “You didn’t have to tell me, so there must be something about it.”

“If she’s right then this-” he motions vaguely around them “-becomes more difficult.”

“It’s already difficult,” she whispers, tugging the long-abandoned pillow onto her lap and hugging it again. “Humour me for a second. Could she be right?”

He feels breathless, a new panic rising inside of him. Of all the things he might admit out loud, this has to be the hardest because if he had admitted this sooner, she could be alive, in fact, maybe half the shit that went wrong before then would’ve gone right _._

“Maybe.”

It’s out before he can stop himself. He watches as Elizabeth’s features soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. There’s a warmth that spreads through him.

“When do you think it started?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

There’s that smile again. “Humour me.”

“I think I started to notice _feelings_ ,” he tells her, needing to clarify that it isn’t a big deal, that Rhea wasn't necessarily on the right track. “The last time we were alone in here.”

She looks around the room, that small smile growing but as her eyes come back to him, it fades a little. “And then I told you to leave.”

“I guess it stopped me from fully realising how I felt or _could_ have felt.”

There’s something akin to regret flashing across her face but that can’t be right. It disappears before he can think to comment on it. “Have you ever thought about what could have happened? Even before the shootings.”

“A little, maybe.”

“I did.” The words come out in a flurry. She doesn’t blush like he expects but her eyes do dart away briefly. “Just a little from time to time. When things were good with us and I wasn’t being dragged down by everything else.”

He edges further onto the bed but still keeps a distance from her. “Yeah? What’d you think about exactly?”

“If I’m in your head, shouldn’t you know?” she challenges, a slight glint to her eyes.

It makes him shake his head, roll his eyes a little, before he parrots back her words. “Humour me.”

“It wasn’t much,” she begins, her finger curling against the pillow as she fidgets. “We wouldn’t have worked so it felt pointless to wonder too much. I did think about when we’d be together again. Physically but also just to be alone. Hopefully for something other than work. I wondered what that might be like. What would we talk about? How honest would we be? Would we _ever_ be honest?”

“We might’ve worked,” he tells her gently, edging a little closer but still keeping space between them. “If we tried... If we- If things were a little different.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She doesn’t sound or look convinced, mostly it seems like her thoughts are elsewhere.

“I’m sorry you can’t go home.”

“It was them I wanted to see,” she says, her grip on the pillow tightening. “I didn’t know what was happening for the longest time. It felt like I was drifting in and out of sleep and when I started to get some grasp on where I was, I hoped that as it got clearer, it would be them I saw first.”

“But you don’t know _how_ you’re here?” he can't help but ask.

“I wish I did,” she says softly. “When it wasn’t my kids, I thought of Annie and Ruby, but still, nothing. It was like I couldn’t control it and instead, when things got a little clearer, it was you. In your nightmares.”

“My nightmares?”

“Yeah. I was angry when I realised it was you, that of all the people to come back to, it had to be the one who shot me.” She puts her head back, eyes closed. “Once I figured out where I was, I didn’t know if you would be able to see me or hear me but I wanted you to know how it felt that day in your loft. I wanted you to understand the pain that I was in, how scared I was. I’m not surprised you killed me but if it was you I had to see one more time then I had to…” She sucks in a breath. “I only wanted you to know.”

“So _you_ changed it?”

“Changed it?”

“In my nightmare all I could focus on was you,” he tells her, remembering the tunnel vision and the array of emotions on her face. “Before and after you shot the gun. There were details I never noticed on that night.”

“I couldn’t figure out how to change, how to _show_ you, but I guess I must have.” She shifts, her legs still crossed but body angled a lot more towards him now. “And seeing that night again, it made me curious… I wanted to know what it was like for you the night you shot me.”

And he remembers how differently that nightmare had felt to the actual night. How it had unnerved him that she was studying him so intently, something she hadn’t done in real life. “Did you find out what it was like?”

“In a way,” she offers up. “I could see a lot of it on your face.”

"It doesn’t make any of it okay though.”

“There was a lot that happened with us that wasn’t okay.”

He reaches out his hand, stopping halfway and laying it on the bed between them with his palm facing up. “There’s a lot I’m pretty fucking happy about though, despite it all.”

“It’s funny,” she says, a slight twitch of her hand before she lifts it. “That it took one of us dying for us to be honest.”

“We were honest before.”

“Not like this.”

She stretches her hand out then and he holds his breath as it edges closer to his hand. When it’s barely an inch above, he releases a slow breath, shivering when her palm presses against his. She’s cold but definitely solid. He shivers again as she presses the tips of her fingers against his wrist. It grounds him in a way that he didn’t know he needed but fuck, he's glad for it.

It doesn't last too long before it feels like his head is turning, his mind racing in so many directions he can hardly keep up. It doesn’t matter why or how she’s here, it doesn’t matter if she’s herself or something he imagined up, it’s so much better. It’s not a complete relief. He knows the second she’s gone, it’ll be back to reality, back to navigating through what he did. He’s fully aware that any forgiveness he might get tonight, any understanding, means nothing. She’s still dead, buried six feet under, and if she could spare any of her feelings for him, it would only be anger. He knows this but still, just for the night (or maybe less), it’ll do.

“Are you okay with it now?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him even though it feels stupid to ask. “Having to see me instead of your family?”

“I figured there was no point in fighting it. I thought that maybe if I went along with it, I could see them next,” she admits, her nails lightly scratching at his skin. “I kept trying to talk to you but it never seemed to work. Then one day, you heard me… In your bedroom.”

He nods slowly, remembering the shock of hearing his name that very first time. “I noticed that…” He exhales slowly. “That you weren’t around that weekend I had Marcus.”

“It didn’t feel right,” she whispers. “He had you back and I didn’t want to take away from that. I could see how everything was affecting you and I wanted you to be there for him.”

“I didn’t deserve that.”

“Maybe not,” she agrees and while it’s mild, there’s that flick of anger, of disgust over who they are and what they’ve done. He, too, feels it so deeply. “But Marcus did.”

“I’m glad you came back.”

“I know.”

It’s small but there’s a little something in her eye. It’s fucked up but he’s sure he sees a softness there. A fondness. Something for him to believe in, he guesses. It was a lot easier when he was living in denial and figured he didn’t care. It was even easier when he thought about her being angry, or when he considered his guilt and grief had manifested her to punish him and force him into admitting all the things he was trying to deny.

He doesn’t deserve the relief he gets from feeling her hand against his or from that soft, fond look she’s giving him. It’s shitty but he can’t make it stop. He’s exhausted. All of the things that have happened finally catching up to him.

Rio pulls his hand away from her. He stands up from the bed, stretching for something to do.

“It happened for me in pieces… At different moments.”

“What did?” he asks, his voice smaller than he thought it capable of.

“Noticing how I felt.” There’s a pause but he remains silent, holding his breath. He knows she’s waiting for him to speak but he can’t. He doesn't dare look at her either. “Despite sending me body parts, I felt it in your loft. I mean, I must have done with how badly it hurt when you asked me to leave. I noticed it at the bar after I lost my kids, when you sat with me on the picnic bench outside my house after I called you, when you got my daughter’s blanket back despite being angry with me, when your hand briefly held mine, when we had our bathroom break.” She chuckles softly, a nervous sound that lights him up a little at the memories. It pleases him that his nightmares haven't ruined any of them. “There were a lot more than that, always surrounded by other things that I guess kept me distracted. I think the earliest was that day at the park when we started washing more cash for you.”

“When you demanded to wash five times what you were doing out of nowhere?”

“Yes but a little later,” she says softly and he hears the bed creak slightly. “After we first pulled it off, I knew I could do it and it wasn’t even because I had no choice. I was _good_ and determined and confident that it was something I could keep doing but after Dean yelled at me, it was just nice to be reminded that all of those things were true. When you recognised what we did and upped the amount again, giving us the chance to earn more money, it was a reminder of what I knew.”

Rio has to swallow against the lump in his throat. All of those other moments she mentioned he knows about, remembers them in vivid detail and yeah, he remembers that day in the park as well. He remembers being genuinely surprised at how determined she was and the fact she pulled it off but that little detail about Dean? That guy might be a dumbass and not very likeable but if Rio’s being honest, he never gave much of a passing thought to him. He can feel the last of his walls breaking down, the only thing keeping him somewhat protected from the shitshow happening around him, from this unknown that’s been fucking with his head.

“He yelled at you?’

“About us and what we were doing. He didn’t know much but afterwards, even once he calmed down a little, he talked to me like I was some naive lamb to the slaughter. Figured I was tricked by the scary, evil gang.”

The wall continues to crumble as she speaks. The painful, shocking reality hitting him square in the chest. He snaps his eyes shut, his chest tightening as his palms begin to itch. _She’s here_ and he’s known it all along, hasn’t he? She was never a figment of his imagination, she was never a hallucination. It was always her. _Elizabeth_. Every dream, every nightmare, every whisper, every sight. All of it and somehow she had led him here, not that he’s going to try and figure any of it out. It doesn't matter much anyway because he can’t fucking breathe again.

He stumbles back and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his chest the entire time.

"You need to breathe."

It's her voice, soft and gentle. He holds onto it, trying to do as she's said while he lays down. He's careful to keep his back to her and to make sure there's space between them.

The bed shifts and while he doesn’t look, he knows she’s gotten off of it. The light in the room goes out as the curtains are drawn. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to adjust as he ignores the temptation to roll over and seek her out, to make sure she’s still there.

It’s too much without that wall to protect him from the reality of it all but once again, the thought of her disappearing on him feels even worse and he almost reaches out for her when the bed dips. He tries to focus on his breathing as she lays down, her hand reaching out to gently touch his side.

"Was that really you on my couch?"

"Yes. It was the closest I had gotten to you while you were awake. Except for now."

Rio inhales, holds it, and exhales slowly. He repeats it a few times. Every time he inhales, she digs her fingers gently into his side and releases them when he exhales. It gives him something to concentrate on. His chest begins to loosen, his palms less itchy now. None of it stops entirely but it doesn’t feel like the world is about to cave in anymore.

"You really don't know what's happening?"

"No," she says, her voice a little firmer but still soft around the edges. "One minute I was dying, then it was like drifting in and out of sleep and then I was in your nightmare."

He ignores the urge to roll over and face her. "What does it feel like?"

"I don't feel alive if that's what you mean." There's a pause, a moment where her fingers press a little harder against his side. "Not entirely anyway. I feel all these emotions, sure, but I don't feel entirely like myself. It's like I'm dreaming or just not quite inside my body. Mostly I'm confused and… And...."

"Scared," he supplies.

"Yeah."

“Why are you being honest and so open with me?”

“I’m dead, Rio,” she says and there’s no malice in her words but it slices through him regardless. “So if not now, when?” He doesn’t respond to that. Really, he’s not entirely sure he could and luckily, she speaks again. "What happens next?"

“I'm not sure, sweetheart. I know I want to be here though.”

“It’s going to end at some point.”

He lifts his fingers to ghost over hers and she takes it as an invitation. Her hand slips over his side, her arm wrapping around him as she shuffles closer to press her front against his back. He lays like that for a moment before it’s too much and he moves away from her so he can roll over and face her. He doesn’t look at her — he _can’t_ — but he does pull her back into him again. He welcomes it as she wraps around him, her face burying against his neck.

“I don’t know what happens next,” she mumbles against his skin. “But I know for lots of reasons, I can’t stay here with you and you can’t come with me.”

Rio clings to her tightly, trying to let himself be consumed by every sensation without losing himself so fast that he breaks. Nothing else in the world right now feels relevant. All that seems important and real is lying on this bed with her — with _Elizabeth_ — and suddenly, he's terrified. Terrified of waking up or turning around or blinking and finding she's gone. It could happen at any moment and he’s pretty sure now that he knows this is real in some way, she won’t come back. Maybe she’ll see her kids or her sister or her friend but she won’t come to him again. He feels it so deeply in his gut.

"Maybe I could go with you," he muses, finding that the idea doesn't scare him.

She draws back and he smiles softly at the baffled look on her face, knowing the penny will drop and it'll turn to frustration or disbelief.

It's a mix.

 _"No,"_ she snaps.

"You said you're scared," he reminds her. "This way I'll be there."

"You don't even know if we'll go to the same place."

He reaches up to gently push her hair out of her face. "I think we will."

"You can't know that."

He doesn't deserve to feel anything other than pain and misery after all of this. It’s his own damn fault and sure, he could blame her. Blame the fact he was shot three times or that she kicked him out of her house or she decided she was done with everything. There’s a lot he could do to shift the focus off of himself and live with what he did. It would let him continue on in denial a lot longer. And fuck, there is _something_ with Elizabeth but he hadn’t known and that’s the difference. That something bloomed in him over time and threatened to burst out that day in her bedroom but it _didn’t_. Before it got the chance, it was squashed down and tucked away and he never got the chance to really feel it.

But now, laying with her in the dark after he thought it was all over, he finds that he can't let go.

"Darling, it's worth the risk."

"No, it's not." She sits up then and at the sudden absence of her against him, he follows. With her back to him, she draws her knees up to her chest. "Both of us being dead doesn't solve anything."

He touches her arm gently until she turns around to look at him. Slowly, he reaches up and pushes her hair out of her face, his finger trailing down. The action sending more of a thrill through him than he expects. She closes her eyes and keeps them so, even when his hand falls away.

"What if we didn't die."

"You can't rewind time."

"Then what if it just felt like we hadn't," he urges. "You and I, like this forever. Here or somewhere else, think of where we could go."

She shakes her head. "I’m not sure if I’m going to stay like this so there’s no way to know if _we_ would."

"Wouldn't it be interesting if we did?”

When she opens her eyes, he knows already that she's not going to agree. "This isn't something we can do together. It’s _not_ worth the risk."

She must sense the tension in him because she lays down again, pulling him down to lay beside her. She reaches over, her hand resting over his chest, scratching lightly. He rolls onto her side, gripping hold of her and drawing her in impossibly close to him. She wraps herself around him again.

"I don't fucking know what to do."

“It’s not over just yet,” she whispers, wriggling even closer to him. "It'll be like waking from another dream. You'll live your life and I'll be gone and eventually, it'll all fade. We'll both move on."

That something blooms again inside of him. A fucking tragedy that it would start to again when she’s about to be gone for good. It really doesn't scare him that a small part of him would go with her but she’s right about that too, he can’t. Images of Marcus, of Rhea, swirling in shi mind like a lifeline. She is wrong, however, that it'll fade. Parts of it will but he'll never get over this, over her.

He utters her name — _Elizabeth_ — gently under his breath before burying his nose against her hair. That something inside of him blooms impossibly large as he holds her and listens to her whisper his name in return. As she draws back, angles her face up to look at him, he leans forward and presses his lips to her cheek. Already he can feel things shift, knows their time is almost up and soon he'll be back to his life without her. The finality of it has him holding onto her a little tighter.

It's unexpected and bright and painful when that something inside of him finally bursts and as it becomes completely impossible to deny that he loved — _loves_ — her, he says it out loud, breathes it out against her skin like a prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I want to say thank you to anyone who left comments on the previous chapter (as well as kudos and whatnot). I got so wrapped up in my nerves when it came to finishing and editing this last chapter that I didn't get around to responding to any of those comments. I do appreciate them though and have really enjoyed reading all of them! It's so nice that so many of you gave this fic a chance 💙 (That being said, now that this fic is over, if there are any new comments, I'm going to do my best to respond to them directly!)


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